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https://archive.org/detajls/countofmontecris00duma_10 


Count  of  flfoonte  Cristo 


Hleyanfcer  2>umaa 

Bttttier  of  "lEbe  {Dan  in  tke  flron  {Dash",  “Chc?e  OuatSBmcn,'*  Mo. 


CHICAGO 

M.  A.  DONOHUE  & COMPANY 
4(57-4 z 9 Dearborn  St. 


M.  A.  DO  NO  H U E &c  COMPANY 
PRINTERS  AND  BINDERS 
407.429  DEARBORN  STREET 
CH  ICAGO 


THE  COUNT  OF 


MONTE  CRISTO 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  ARRIVAL  AT  MARSEILLES. 

On  the  24th  of  February,  1815,  the  Marseilles  port  lookouts  sig- 
nalled that  the  three-master  Pharaoh  was  coming  up  the  harbor. 
She  belonged  to  Morrel  and  Son,  and  was  homeward  bound  from 
Smyrna,  Trieste  and  Naples.  The  pilot  boat  ran  out  to  meet  her, 
and  the  idters  congregated  on  the  waterside  to  see  her  come  into 
her  mooring-place,  with  the  more  interest  as  she  had  been  built, 
launched  and  fitted  out  from  this  ancient  port. 

She  came  in  so  slowly  that  it  was  easy  to  guess  that  she  had 
met  some  mishap,  not  to  herself,  as  she  was  in  trim  condition,  but 
to  some  one  aboard.  By  the  pilot  was  seen,  standing  to  transmit 
his  orders,  a bright-eyed  and  active  young  man. 

The  vague  disquiet  of  the  spectators  was  peculiarly  sharper  in 
one  of  them  who  took  a boat  and  man,  and  was  rowed  out  to  meet 
the  vessel. 

On  seeing  him  draw  near,  the  ship’s  officer  left  the  pilot  and 
with  his  hat  off  went  to  lean  over  tiie  taffrail. 

He  was  a handsome  fellow  not  over  twenty,  tall  but  slim,  with 
beautiful  black  eyes  and  ebony  hair,  with  all  the  calmness  and 
resolution  of  those  inured  from  childhood  to  wrestle  with  dangers. 

“ Ah,  is  this  you,  Dantes  ? ” hailed  the  passenger  in  the  wherry, 
41  what  is  wrong  and  why  do  you  all  wear  such  a sad  look? ” 

“ A great  misfortune  befell  us,  M.  Morrel,”  replied  the  young 
man,  “ and  worse  for  me  ; off  Civita  Vecchia,  we  lost  our  honest 
Captain  Leclere ” 

-<  But  the  cargo  ? *’  quickly  asked  the  shipowner. 

“ That  is  safe  in  port,  and  I believe  you  will  be  satisfied  on  that 
score  ; but  poor  Captain  Leclere  is  dead-*not  fallen  overboard, 
but  carried  off  by  brain  fever,’ * 


f%  THE  COVNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

He  turned  aside  to  set  bis  crew  to  work  for  the  letting  go  the  an* 
chor  and  taking  in  sail. 

“ How  did  all  this  happen?”  asked  the  shipmaster,  resuming 
when  the  young  commander  returned  to  him. 

“ Most  unexpectedly  ; after  a long  talk  with  the  harbormaster 
at  Naples,  our  skipper  came  aboard  in  a fret  and  the  fever  break- 
ing out  in  a day,  he  was  done  for  in  three.  We  gave  him  the  sea- 
man’s funeral,  and  I bring  to  his  widow  his  sword  and  cross  of  the 
Legion  of  Honor — it  was  much  good  his  waging  war  at  sea  for  ten 
years  against  the  British  to  die  in  his  bed  like  the  stay-at-homes  at 
last,”  sighed  the  young  man. 

44  Never  mind,  Edmond,  we  are  all  mortal,”  returned  the  ship- 
owner,  seeming  to  be  more  and  more  consoled,  4 4 and  the  old  must 
give  place  to  the  young  or  there  would  be  no  promotion  ; and  as 
long  as  you  encourage  me  about  the  cargo ’ ’ 

44 1 answer  for  its  being  in  a good  state,  M.  Morrel  ; I would  not 
advise  you  to  sell  without  twenty-five  thousand  profit.” 

He  turned  to  issue  orders,  carried  out  as  on  a war-ship. 

The  ship  went  on  so  slowly  now  that  the  ship-master  could  step 
aboard. 

44  Here  is  your  supercargo  coming  on  deck,  to  supply  you  with 
full  information.” 

Supercargo  Danglars  was  a man  of  twenty-five,  of  a moody  cast 
of  countenance  ; obsequious  to  his  superiors  he  was  insolent  to  his 
inferiors  ; besides  his  being  the  purser,  which  is  always  an  object 
of  aversion  to  seamen,  he  was  as  badly  viewed  by  the  crew  as 
Dantes  was  liked. 

“Well,  M.  Morrel,”  said  Danglars.  “you  have  heard  of  the 
misfortune?  ” 

44  Yes — yes  ! poor  Baptain  Leclere  ! He  was  a brave  and  hon- 
est man  ! M 

44  And  a first-rate  seaman,  grown  old  between  sky  and  sea,  as 
should  a man  charged  with  the  interests  of  a house  so  important  as 
Morrel  and  Son,”  replied  Danglars. 

44  But/’  replied  the  owner,  following  with  his  look  Dant&s,  who 
was  watching  the  anchoring,  44  it  seems  to  me  that  a sailor  needs 
not  to  be  so  old  as  you  say,  Danglars,  to  understand  his  business ; 
for  our  friend  Edmond  seems  to  understand  it  thoroughly,  and 
not  to  require  instruction  from  any  one.” 

44  Yes,”  said  Danglars,  casting  towards  Edmond  a look  in  which 
envy  was  strongly  visible.  44  Yes,  he  is  young,  and  youth  is  in- 
variably self-confident.  Scarcely  was  the  captain’s  breath  out  of 
his  body  than  he  assumed  the  command  without  consulting  any 
one,  and  he  caused  us  to  lose  a day  and  a half  at  the  Isle  of  Elba, 
instead  of  making  for  Marseilles  direct.” 

•#As  to  taking  the  command  of  the  vessel,”  replied  Morrel, 
* that  was  his  duty  as  mate  ; as  to  losing  a day  and  a half  off  the 
Isle  of  Elba,  he  was  wrong,  unless  the  ship  wanted  repairs.”  . 


THE  COUNT  OR  V ONTE  CRI^Q,  5 

•'The  ship  was  as  sound  as  I am,  and  as,  I hope,  you  fata  M. 
Morrel,  and  this  time  was  lost  from  pure  whim,  for  the  pleasure  of 
going  ashore,  and  nothing  else.  ’ 

" Dantes  ! ” said  the  shipowner,  turning  towards  the  young  man, 
•4  come  this  way  ! ” 

"In  a moment,  sir,”  answered  Dantes.  Then  calling  to  the 
crew,  he  said — " Let  go  ! ” 

The  anchor  was  instantly  dropped,  and  the  chain  ran  rattling 
through  the  port-hole.  Dantes  continued  at  his  post  in  spite  of  the 
presence  of  the  pilot,  until  this  manoeuvre  was  completed,  and 
then  he  added,  " Half-mast  the  flags  and  stay  the  yards  ashore.” 
"You  see,”  said  Danglars,  " he  fancies  himself  captain  already, 
upon  my  word.” 

" And  so,  in  fact,  he  is,”  said  the  owner. 

" Except  your  signature  and  your  partner’s,  M.  Morrel.” 

" And  why  should  he  not  have  this  ? ” asked  the  owner  ; " he 
is  young,  it  is  true,  but  he  seems  to  me  a thorough  seaman,  and  of 
full  experience.” 

A cloud  passed  over  Danglars’  brow.  " Your  pardon,  M.  Mor- 
rel,” said  Dantes,  approaching,  " the  ship  now  rides  at  anchor, 
and  I am  at  your  service.  You  hailed  me,  I think?  ” 

Danglars  retreated  a step  or  two.  " I wished  to  inquire  why 
you  stopped  at  the  Isle  of  Elba  ? ” 

" I do  not  know,  sir  ; it  was  to  fulfill  a last  instruction  of  Cap- 
tain Leclere,  who,  when  dying,  gave  me  a packet  for  Marshal 
Bertrand.” 

Morrel  looked  around  him,  and  then,  drawing  Dantes  on  one 
side,  he  said  suddenly — *'  And  how  is  the  emperor  ? ” 

" Very  well,  as  far  as  I could  judge  ^om  my  eyes.  He  entered 
the  apartment  whilst  I was  there.” 

••  And  you  spoke  to  him  ? ” 

" He  asked  me  questions  about  the  ship,  the  time  it  left  Mar- 
seilles, the  course  she  had  taken,  and  what  was  her  cargo.  I be- 
lieve, if  she  had  not  been  laden,  and  I had  been  her  master,  he 
would  have  bought  her.  But  I told  him  I was  only  mate,  and 
that  she  belonged  to  Morrel  and  Son.  ‘Ah!  ha!  ’ he  said, ' I 
know  them  ! The  Morrels  have  been  ship-owners  for  generations, 
though  one  was  a soldier,  who  served  in  the  same  garrison  with 
me,  at  Valence.’  ” 

"By  Jove,  that  is  true,”  exclaimed  Morrel  delighted,  "he 
means  my  uncle  Policar,  who  became  a captain.  Dantes,  tell  him 
that  the  emperor  remembered  him  and  you  will  see  the  old  veteran 
look  moist  about  the  eyes.  Come,  come,”  added  he,  slapping 
ffie  young  officer  on  the  shoulder,  " you  were  quite  right  to  follow 
Leclere’ s instructions  and  stop  at  Elba,  though  you  might  be  both- 
?red  if  known  you  handed  a packet  to  the  marshal  and  chatted 
with  the  exile.” 

" How  could  it  entangle  me?”  said  Dantes,  " I did  not  know 


6 the  count  of  monte  crjsto . 

^rha)t  I carried  and  the  emperor  only  spoke  to  me  as  to  any  fieKt 
man.  But  here  tome  the  medical  officers  and  the  customs — ” 

“ Attend  to  them,”  said  Morrel  whom  Danglars  approached, 
asking  him  if  he  were  satisfied  with  the  explanations. 

“But,”  said  he,  “how  about  the  letter  of  Leclere’s  which  he 

left  at  Porto  Ferrajo 1 was  passing  the  cabin  door  when  I saw 

that  given.  But  unless  he  gave  you  it,  I may  be  mistaken — say 
nothing  to  him.” 

Dant&s  returned,  having  settled  everything,  anu  tne  ship-owner 
asked  him  to  dinner. 

“Excuse  me,”  said  Edmond,  “ but  I always  pay  my  first  v^isit 
to  my  father.” 

“ Right,  Dantes,  quit*  right.  I always  knew  you  were  a good 
son.” 

“And,”  inquired  Dantes,  with  some  hesitation,  “ do  you  know 
how  my  father  is?  ” 

“ Well,  I believe,  my  dear  Edmond,  though  I have  not  seen 
him  lately.” 

“ Yes,  he  likes  to  keep  himself  shut  up  in  his  little  room.” 

“ That  proves,  at  least,  that  he  has  wanted  for  nothing  during 
your  absence.” 

Dantes  smiled.  “My  father  is  proud,  sir  ; and  if  he  had  not  a 
meal  left,  I doubt  if  he  would  have  asked  anything  from  any  one, 
except  God.” 

“ Weil,  then,  after  this  first  visit  has  been  made  we  rely  on 
you.” 

“I  must  again  excuse  myself,  M.  Morrel;  for  after  this  first 
visit  has  been  paid  I have  another,  which  I am  most  anxious  to 
pay.” 

“ True,  Dant&s,  I forgot  that  there  was  at  the  Catalans  some  one 
who  expects  you  no  less  impatiently  than  your  father— the  lovely 
Mercedes.” 

Dant&s  blushed. 

“ Ah ! ah ! ” said  the  ship-owner,  “ that  does  not  astonish  me, 
for  she  has  been  to  me  three  times,  inquiring  if  there  were  any 
news.  Edmond,  you  have  a very  handsome  flame.” 

“ She  is  not  my  flame,”  replied  the  young  sailor,  gravely  ; “ she 
is  my  betrothed.’ 9 

“ Well,  well,  my  dear  Edmond,”  continued  the  owner,  “ do  not 
let  me  detain  you.  You  have  managed  my  affairs  so  well  that  I 
ought  to  allow  you  all  the  time  you  require  for  your  own.  Do  you 
want  any  money  ? ” 

“No,  sir;  I have  all  my  pay  to  take— nearly  three  months® 
wages.” 

“You  are  a careful  fellow,  Edmond.” 

“ Say  I have  a poor  father,  sir.” 

“ Yes,  yes,  I know  how  good  a son  you  are,  so  now  haste  away 
to  see  your  father.  I have  a son,  too,  and  I should  be  very  wroth 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  J 

trith  those  who  detained  him  from  me  after  a three  months*  voy- 
age." 

* ‘‘Then  I have  your  leave,  sir?** 

44  Yes,  if  you  have  nothing  more  to  say  to  me.** 

44  Nothing.” 

44  Captain  Leclere  did  not,  before  he  died,  give  you  a letter  for 
me  ? M 

4 4 He  was  unable  to  write,  sir.  But  that  reminds  me  that  I must 
ask  your  leave  of  absence  for  some  days.’* 

14  To  get  married  ? ” 

“Yes,  first,  and  then  to  go  to  Paris.” 

44  Very  good  ; have  what  time  you  require,  Dantfcs.  It  will 
take  quite  six  weeks  to  unload  the  cargo,  and  we  can  not  get  you 
ready  for  sea  until  three  months  after  that  ; only  be  back  again  in 
three  months,  for  the  Pharaoh,”  added  the  owner,  patting  the 
sailor  on  the  back,  44  cannot  sail  without  her  captain.” 

44  Without  her  captain  ! ” cried  Dantes,  his  eyes  sparkling  with 
animation  ; 44  pray,  mind  what  you  say,  for  you  are  touching  on 
the  most  secret  wishes  of  my  heart.  Is  it  really  your  intention  to 
nominate  me  captain?  ” 

44  If  I were  sole  owner  I would  appoint  you  this  moment,  my 
dear  Dantes,  and  say  it  is  settled  ; but  I have  a partner,  and  you 
know  the  Italian  proverb — 4 He  who  has  a partner  has  a master.* 
But  the  thing  is  at  least  half  done,  as  you  have  one  out  of  two 
voices.  Rely  on  me  to  procure  you  the  other ; I will  do  my 
best.” 

44 Ah!  M.  Morrel,”  exclaimed  the  seaman,  with  tears  in  his 
eyes,  and  grasping  the  owner’s  hand,  44  I thank  you  in  the  name 
of  my  father  and  of  Mercedes. ** 

44  Stay,  Dantes — if  you  command,  would  you  keep  Danglars 
aboard  ? * * 

44 1 always  respect  my  owners*  choice.** 

44 1 see  you  are  a good-hearted  fellow  ; but  I will  not  detain  you. 
Good  fortune  ! ” 

The  speaker  watched  the  youth  proceed  to  shore  in  a row  boat, 
and  Danglars  did  the  same,  but  with  hatred. 


CHAPTER  II. 

FATHER  AND  SON. 

Dantes  passed  through  the  town  after  landing,  to  Meillans 
Alley,  where  he  entered  a small  house  ; ascending  four  flights,  he 
peeped  into  a little  room. 

This  apartment  was  occupied  by  Dantfcs*  father.  The  news  of 
the  arrival  had  not  yet  reached  the  old  man,  who,  mounted  on  a 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


chair,  was  amusing  himself  with  staking  some  nasturtiums  which, 
mingled  with  clematis,  formed  a trellis  at  his  window.  Suddenly, 
he  felt  an  arm  thrown  round  his  body,  and  a well-known  voice  be- 
hind him  exclaimed,  “ Father!  dear  father!  ” 

The  old  man  uttered  a cry,  and  turned  round  ; then,  seeing  his 
son,  he  fell  into  his  arms,  pale  and  trembling. 

“Come,  come,  cheer  up,  my  dear  father!  ’Tis  I — really  I! 
They  say  joy  never  hurts,  and  so  I come  to  you  without  any  warn- 
ing. Come  now,  look  cheerfully  at  me,  instead  of  gazing  as  you 
do  with  your  eyes  so  wide.  Here  I am  back  again,  and  we  will 
now  be  happy.’* 

“ Yes,  yes,  my  boy,  so  we  wil^-,"  replied  the  old  man  ; “but 
how  shall  we  be  happy  ? Will  you  never  leave  me  again?  Come, 
tell  me  all  the  good  fortune  that  has  befallen  you.” 

“God  forgive  me,”  said  the  young  man,  “for  rejoicing  at  happiness 
derived  from  the  misery  of  others  ; but,  Heaven  knows,  I did  not 
seek  this  good  fortune  : it  has  happened,  and  I really  cannot  affect 
to  lament  it.  Our  good  Captain  Leclere  is  dead,  father,  and  it  is 
probable  that,  with  the  aid  of  M.  Morrel,  I shall  have  his  place. 
Do  you  understand,  father  ? Only  imagine  me  a captain  at  twenty, 
with  a hundred  louis  pay,  and  a share  in  the  profits!  Is  this  not 
more  than  a poor  sailor  like  me  could  have  hoped  for  ? ” 

“Yes,  my  dear  boy,”  replied  the  old  man,  “ and  much  more 
than  you  could  have  expected.” 

“ Well,  then,  with  the  first  money  I touch,  I mean  you  to  have  a 
small  house,  with  a garden.  But  what  ails  you,  father?  Are  not 
you  well  ? ” 

“’Tis  nothing,  nothing;  it  will  soon  pass  away  and  as  he 
said  so  the  old  man’s  strength  failed  him,  and  he  fell  backwards. 

“ Come,  come,”  said  the  young  man,  “ a glass  of  wine,  father, 
will  revive  you.  Where  do  you  keep  you  wine  ? ” 

“ No,  no  ; thank  ye.  You  need  not  look  for  it ; I do  not  want 
it,”  said  the  old  man. 

“Yes,  yes,  father,  tell  me  where  it  is,”  and  lie  opened  two  or 
three  cupboards. 

“ It  is  no  use,”  said  the  old  man,  “ there  is  no  wine.” 

“ What ! no  wine  ? ” said  Dantes,  turning  pale,  and  looking  al« 
ternately  at  the  hollow  cheeks  of  the  old  man  and  the  empty  cup- 
boards, “ What ! no  wine  ? Have  you  wanted  money,  father?  ” 
“ I want  nothing  since  I see  you,”  said  the  old  man. 

“Yet,”  stammered  Dantes,  wiping  the  perspiration  from  his 
brow, — “ yet  I gave  you  two  hundred  francs  when  I left,  three 
months  ago.” 

“ Yes,  yes,  Edmond,  that  is  true,  but  you  forgot  at  that  time  a 
little  debt  to  our  neighbor,  Caderousse.  He  reminded  me  of  it, 
telling  me  if  I did  not  pay  for  you,  he  would  go  to  M.  Morrel ; and 
so*  you  see,  lest  he  might  do  you  an  injury,  I paid  him.” 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  g 

••But/*  cried  Dantes,  44  it  was  a hundred  and  forty  francs  I 
owed  Caderousse.” 

“ Ye-es,’*  faltered  the  old  man. 

**  Then  you  have  only  had  sixty  francs  to  live  on  these  three 
months?  You  rend  my  heart ! But  I am  home  with  fine  prospects 
and  some  cash.”  He  put  some  coin  on  the  table,  which  made  the 
old  man’s  eyes  glisten. 

44  Nay,  I will  use  your  boon  moderately;  if  seen  to  be  lavish, 
folks  will  say  I had  to  wait  for  your  coming  to  be  in  funds.” 

•4  Do  as  you  like,  but  hire  a servant.  I have  some  coffee  and 
tobacco  which  I have  run  past  the  customs-house  sharks.  But, 
hush  ! here  comes  Caderousse  to  congratulate  me — lips  saying  one 
thing — his  heart  another  ! ” 

Caderousse’s  black  head  and  bearded  face  appeared ; he  was 
a man  about  twenty -five  ; in  his  hand,  as  a tailor,  was  the  cloth 
for  a coat-skirt. 

He  grinned  a welcome  to  Edmond  and  begged  him  not  to  thank 
him  for  the  kindness  to  his  father. 

44  Let  us  only  talk  of  your  happy  return.  I was  on  the  quay  to 
match  some  cloth  when  I met  friend  Danglars  who  told  me  you 
were  home  again.  But  you  seem  to  return  rich,”  said  he,  eyeing 
the  coin  greedily. 

44  No,  my  father  showed  me  that  he  had  a stock  when  I asked 
if  he  had  been  short.” 

44 1 hear  that  you  were  in  such  a haste  to  greet  your  father  that 
you  would  not  dine  with  the  shipper.  That  is  right  and  yet  when 
one  is  on  the  road  to  be  captain  he  ought  to  curry  favor  with  the 
owner!  but  be  captain — nothing  will  please  your  friends  better ! 
and  I know  one  behind  St.  Nicholas  fort,  who  will  not  be  sorry  to 
hear  it ! ” 

44  Mercedes!  '*  exclaimed  the  old  man.  44 Go]  ah,  heaven  has 
blessed  you  in  such  a wife  as  me  in  such  a son.” 

44  Wife  ! ” repeated  Caderousse  ; 44  how  fast  you  run  ! Merce- 
des is  a fine  slip  and  has  sweethearts  by  dozens ! but  go  to  her  ! ” 

He  preceded  Dantes,  and  went  to  join  the  supercargo  at  the 
corner  whence  they  went  to  a tavern  to  have  wine. 

44  Why  did  you  stir  up  his  jealousy?  asked  Danglars. 

44  Not  at  all,  but  she  ?ias  a strapping  fellow  with  her  every  time 
she  comes  to  town.” 

4*  Let  us  go  to  the  Catalans  ! ** 

Caderousse  was  ready  to  go  anywhere  as  long  as  another  paid 
the  refreshment  bills.  They  stopped  at  Father  Pamphile’s  Re* 
*erve  inn  while  Dantes  kept  on  his  way. 


20 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


i CHAPTER  lit 

THE  BEAUTY  OF  THE  CATALANS* 

The  Catalans  is  a small  half-Moorish,  half-Spanish  village* 
peopled  by  a race  which  does  not  intermix  with  that  at  Marseilles. 
It  has  but  a single  street  in  which  a small  house  contained  a 
beautiful  girl,  with  hair  as  black  as  jet,  and  eyes  as  velvety  as  the 
gazelle’s,  was  leaning  with  her  back  against  the  wainscot,  rubbing, 
in  her  slender  fingers,  a bunch  of  heath  blossoms,  the  flowers  of 
which  she  was  picking  off,  and  strewing  on  the  floor ; her  arms 
bare  to  the  elbow,  embrowned,  and  resembling  those  of  the  Venus 
at  Arles,  moved  with  impatience,  and  she  tapped  the  earth  with 
her  pliant  and  well-formed  foot,  so  as  to  display  the  pure  and  full 
shape  of  her  well-turned  leg,  in  its  red  cotton  stocking  with  grey  and 
blue  clocks.  At  three  paces  from  her,  seated  in  a chair  which  he 
balanced  on  two  legs,  leaning  his  elbow  on  an  old  worm-eaten 
table,  was  a tall  man  of  twenty  or  two-and-twenty,  looking  at  her 
with  an  air  in  which  vexation  and  uneasiness  were  mingled.  He 
questioned  her  with  his  eyes,  but  the  firm  and  steady  gaze  con- 
trolled his  look. 

“You  see,  Mercedes,”  said  the  young  man,  “here  is  Easter 
come  round  again  ; tell  me,  is  not  this  the  moment  for  a wed- 
ding ? do  you  forget  that  it  is  among  the  Catalans  a sacred  law 
to  intermarry  ? ” 

“You  mistake,  Fernand,  it  is  not  a law,  but  merely  a custom  ; 
and,  I pray,  do  not  cite  this  custom  in  your  favor.  You  are  in- 
cluded in  the  conscription,  Fernand,  and  are  only  at  liberty  on 
sufferance,  liable  at  any  moment  to  be  called  upon  to  take  up  arms. 
Once  a soldier,  what  would  you  do  with  me,  a poor  orphan,  for- 
lorn, without  fortune,  with  nothing  but  a hut,  half  in  ruins,  con- 
taining some  ragged  nets — a miserable  inheritance  left  by  my 
father  to  my  mother,  and  by  my  mother  to  me  ? She  has  been 
dead  a year,  and  you  know,  Fernand,  I have  subsisted  almost 
entirely  on  public  charity.  Sometimes  you  pretend  I am  useful 
to  you,  and  that  is  an  excuse  to  share  with  me  the  produce  of  your 
fishing,  and  I accept  it,  Fernand,  because  you  are  the  son  of  my 
father’s  brother,  because  we  were  brought  up  together,  and  still 
more  because  it  would  give  you  so  much  pain  if  I refuse.  But  I 
feel  very  deeply  that  this  fish  which  I go  and  sell,  and  with  the 
produce  of  which  I buy  the  flax  I spin, — this  is  charity.” 

“ And  if  it  were,  Mercedes,  poor  and  lone  as  you  are,  you  suit 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


II 


me  as  well  as  the  daughter  of  the  leading  ship-owner,  or  the 
richest  banker  of  Marseilles  ! What  do  such  as  we  desire  but  a 
good  wife  and  careful  housekeeper,  and  where  can  I look  for  these 
better  than  in  you  ? ” 

“ Fernand,”  answered  Mercedes,  shaking  her  head,  “ a woman 
becomes  a bad  manager,  and  who  shall  say  she  will  remain  an 
honest  wife,  when  she  loves  another  man  better  than  her  hus- 
band ? I love  Edmond  Dantes,  and  i&one  but  Edmond  shall  ever 
be  my  husband.” 

Fernand  let  fall  his  head  like  a defeated  man,  heaved  a sigh 
which  resembled  a groan,  and  then  suddenly  looking  her  full  in 
the  face,  with  clenched  teeth  and  expanded  nostrils,  said, — “ But 
if  he  is  dead ’ * 

“ If  he  is  dead,  I shall  die  too.” 

“ If  he  has  forgotten  you ” 

“ Mercedes  ! ” cried  a voice,  joyously,  outside  the  house. 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed  the  girl,  blushing  with  delight,  and  springing 
up  with  love,  “ you  see  he  has  not  forgotten  me,  for  here  he  is ! ” 
And  rushing  toward  the  door,  she  opened  it,  saying,  “ Here,  Ed- 
mond, here  I am  ! ” 

Fernand,  pale  and  trembling,  receded  like  a traveler  at  the 
sight  of  a serpent,  and  fell  into  a chair.  Edmond  and  Mercedes 
were  clasped  in  each  other’s  arms.  The  burning  sun,  which  pene- 
trated by  the  open  door,  covered  them  with  a flood  of  light.  At 
first  they  saw  nothing  around  them.  Their  intense  happiness  iso- 
lated them  from  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  they  only  spoke  in 
broken  words,  which  are  the  tokens  of  a joy  so  extreme  that  they 
seem  rather  the  expression  of  sorrow.  Suddenly  Edmond  saw  the 
gloomy  countenance  of  Fernand,  as  it  was  defined  in  the  shadow, 
pale  and  threatening,  and  by  a movement,  for  which  he  could 
scarcely  account,  the  young  Catalan  placed  his  hand  on  the  knife 
at  his  belt. 

‘‘Ah!  your  pardon,”  said  Dantes,  frowning  in  his  turn;  “I 
did  not  perceive  that  there  was  company.”  Then,  turning  to 
Mercedes,  he  inquired,  “ Who  is  this  gentleman  ? ” 

“ One  who  will  be  your  best  friend,  Dantes,  for  he  is  my  friend, 
my  cousin,  my  brother  ; it  is  Fernand — the  man  whom,  after  you, 
Edmond,  I love  the  best  in  the  world.  Do  you  not  remember 
him  ? ” 

“ Yes  ; but  I did  not  know,  when  I came  with  such  haste  to  you, 
that  I was  to  meet  an  enemy  here.” 

“An  enemy!”  cried  Mercedes,  with  an  angry  look  at  her 
cousin.  “ An  enemy  in  my  house,  do  you  say,  Edmond  ! If  I 
believed  that,  I would  place  my  arm  under  yours  and  go  with  you 
to  Marseilles,  leaving  the  house  to  return  to  It  no  more.” 

Fernand’s  eye  darted  lightning.  “And  should  any  misfortune 
occur  to  you,  dear  Edmond,”  she  continued,  with  the  calmness 
which  proved  to  Fernand  that  the  girl  had  read  the  very 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


t% 

innermost  depths  of  his  sinister  intention,  “ if  misfortune  should 
occur  to  you,  I would  ascend  the  highest  point  of  Cape  Morgion* 
and  cast  myself  headlong  from  it.*’ 

Fernand  became  deadly  pale.  " But  you  are  deceived,  Ed- 
mond/* she  continued.  “ You  have  no  enemy  here — there  is  no 
one  but  Fernand,  my  brother,  who  will  grasp  your  hand  as  a de* 
voted  friend.” 

» And  at  these  words  the  girl  fixed  her  imperious  look  on  the 
{Catalan,  who,  as  if  fascinated  by  it,  came  slowly  toward  Edmond, 
’and  offered  him  his  hand.  His  hatred,  like  a powerless  though 
furious  wave,  was  broken  by  Mercedes’  ascendancy.  But  to  touch 
Dantes*  hand  was  as  much  as  he  could  constrain  himself  to  do* 
and  he  instantly  darted  out  of  the  house. 

He  was  still  running  when  he  was  hailed  from  the  tavern,  where 
Danglars  had  halted  with  the  tailor.  The  latter  had  already  im- 
bibed heavily  but  the  treater  was  sober.  He  saw  in  the  Catalan’s 
eye  that  fire  of  revenge  and  jealousy  with  which  he  might  burn 
down  his  enemy’s  castle. 

While  hatching  a scheme,  he  asked  the  fugitive  to  sit  down  and 
carouse.  They  were  so  engaged  when  the  ‘ happy  couple  of 
Dantes  and  his  beloved  strolled  along.  Mercedes  was  talking  all 
the  time  she  could  as  Edmond  announced  that  he  had  to  go  to 
Paris. 

Danglars  guessed  that  this  singular  journey  was  linked  to  the 
letter  he  had  seen  confided  to  the  acting  captain  and  as  soon  as 
the  pair  were  gone,  induced  Fernand  to  write  a denunciatory  let- 
ter to  the  royal  prosecutor  which  would  remove  his  rival.  Cader* 
ousse.  in  his  tipsy  state,  was  persuaded  that  it  was  only  a practical 
joke. 

“Hurrah!”  said  the  supercargo  to  himself,  “the  thing  is 
launched  and  will  reach  home  without  anymore  urging  1 " 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  INTERRUPTED  WEDDING. 

It  was  necessary  to  have  the  scheme  ready,  for  Dantes  had  lost 
no  time  on  his  side.  He  wished  to  be  married  before  he  started 
on  his  mission  to  the  capital.  He  had  a plenteous  feast  prepared 
at  Reserve  Tavern  where  before  noon  his  crew  and  friends  as- 
sembled. Morrel  also  condescended  to  participate  in  the  celebra- 
tion of  his  mate’s  happiness.  Fernand  attended  though  his  feat* 
ures  wore  a sinister  smile. 

Neither  Mercedes  nor  Edmond  observed  the  strange  expression. 

Danglars  and  Caderousse  took  their  places  beside  Ferannd  and 
old  Dantes,— the  latter  of  whom  attracted  universal  notice,  attired 


THE  COUNT  OF  MON  TE  CRTS  TO. 


*3 

In  a suit  of  black,  trimmed  with  steel  buttons,  beautitully  cut  and 
polished.  Beside  him  crept  Caderousse,  whose  desire  to  partake 
of  the  good  things  provided  for  the  wedding-party  had  induced 
him  to  become  reconciled  to  the  Dantes,  father  and  son,  although 
there  still  lingered  in  his  mind  a faint  recollection  of  events  of  the 
preceding  night  ; just  as  the  brain  retains  on  waking  tlie  dim  and 
misty  outlines  of  the  dream. 

As  Danglars  approached  the  disappointed  lover,  he  cast  on  him 
a look  of  deep  meaning,  while  Fernand,  as  he  paced  behind  the 
happy  pair,  entirely  forgotten  by  the  bride,  was  pale  and  abstract- 
ed : occasionally,  however,  a deep  flush  would  overspread  his 
countenance,  and  a nervous  contraction  distort  his  limbs,  while  he 
would  glance  in  the  direction  of  Marseilles,  like  one  who  either 
anticipated  or  foresaw  some  great  event. 

Dantes  himself  was  simply  clad  in  the  dress  peculiar  to  the 
merchant  navy — a costume  somewhat  between  a military  and  a 
civil  garb  ; and  his  fine  countenance  was  radiant  with  joy  and 
happiness. 

Lovely  as  the  Greeks  Mercedes  boasted  the  same  bright  eyes  of 
jet  and  coral  lips.  One  of  great  cities  would  have  hid  her  glee 
beneath  a veil,  or,  at  least,  have  cast  down  her  thickly-fringed 
lashes,  but  the  girl  looked  around  her  with  a smile  that  seemed  to 
invite  all  who  saw  her  to  behold,  and  rejoice  with  her. 

Immediately  the  bridal  pair  came  in  sight  of  La  Reserve,  M. 
Morrel  came  forth  to  meet  it,  followed  by  the  soilders  and  sailors 
there  assembled,  to  whom  he  had  repeated  the  promise  already 
given,  that  Dantes  should  be  the  successor  to  the  late  Captain 
Leclere.  Edmond,  at  the  approach,  respectfully  placed  the  arm 
of  his  affianced  bride  within  Morrel’ s,  who,  forthwith  conducting 
her  up  the  flight  of  wooden  steps  leading  to  the  chamber  in  which 
the  feast  was  prepared,  was  followed  by  the  guests,  beneath  who 
they  creaked  and  groaned. 

41  Father,* * said  Mercedes,  stopping  when  she  had  reached  the 
centre  of  the  table,  “sit,  I pray  you,  on  my  right  hand  ; on  my 
left  I will  place  him  who  has  ever  been  a brother  to  me,”  pointing 
with  a softness  to  Fernand  ; but  inflicting  torture  on  him,  for  his 
lips  became  ghastly  pale,  and  even  beneath  the  dark  hue  of  his 
complexion  the  blood  might  be  seen  retreating  to  the  heart. 

During  this  time,  Dantes,  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  table,  had< 
been  occupied  in  placing  his  guests.  M.  Morrel  was  seated  at  his 
right  hand,  Danglars  at  his  left  ; while,  at  a sign  from  Edmond, 
the  rest  of  the  company  ranged  themselves  as  most  agreeable. 

And  now  commenced  the  work  of  devastation  upon  the  many 
$ood  things  with  which  the  table  was  loaded. 

“A  pretty  silence  truly  ! ” said  the  old  father  of  the  bride- 
groom, as  he  carried  to  his  lips  a glass  of  wine  of  the  hue  of  the 
tfrpaii,  ju&t  placed  before  Merc£d£s  herself,  “ Now,  would  auy* 


f4  ^ THE  COUNT  or  MONTE  CRISTO. 

body  think  that  of  * r who  desire  nothing  better  than 
to  laugh  ? ** 

“Ah  ! ” sighed  Cadciousse,  “ a man  cannot  always  feel  happy 
Decause  he  is  about  to  be  married.’* 

“The  truth  is,”  replied  Dantes,  “that  I am  too  happy  for 
mirth  ; that  is  what  you  meant  by  your  observation,  my  worthy 
friend,  you  are  right  ; joy  takes  a strange  effect  at  times,  it  seems 
to  oppress  us  almost  the  same  as  sorrow.” 

" Danglars  looked  towards  Fernand,  whose  excitable  nature  re- 
ceived and  betrayed  each  fresh  impression. 

“ Why,  what  ails  you  ? ” asked  he  of  Edmond.  “ Do  you  fear 
any  approaching  evil  ? I should  say  that  you  were  the  happiest 
man  alive  at  this  instant.” 

“ And  that  is  the  very  thing  that  alarms  me,**  returned  Dantes. 
“ Man  does  not  appear  to  me  to  be  intended  to  enjoy  felicity  so 
unmixed  ; happiness  is  like  the  enchanted  palaces  where  dragons 
defend  the  entrance  ; and  monsters  to  be  overcome.  I own  that  I 
am  lost  in  wonder  to  find  myself  promoted  to  an  honor  of  which 
I feel  myself  unworthy — that  of  being  the  husband  of  Mercedes.’* 

“Nay,  nay!”  cried  Caderousse,  smiling,  “you  have  not  at- 
tained that  honor  yet.  Mercedes  is  not  yet  your  wife.  Just  as- 
sume the  tone  and  manner  of  a husband,  and  see  how  she  will  re- 
mind you  that  your  hour  is  not  yet  come  ! ** 

The  bride  blushed,  and  seemed  half-inclined  to  be  angry  ; while 
Fernand,  restless  and  uneasy,  seemed  to  start  at  every  fresh  sound, 
occasionally  applying  his  handkerchief  to  his  brow  to  wipe  away 
the  large  drops  of  perspiration. 

“Well,  never  mind  that,  neighbor  Caderousse  ; it  is  not  worth 
while  to  contradict  me  for  such  a trifle  as  that.  ’Tis  true  that 
Mercedes  is  not  actually  my  wife  ; but,”  added  he,  drawing  out 
his  watch,  “in  an  hour  and  a half  from  this  she  will  be  fast  and 
firm.” 

A general  exclamation  of  surprise  ran  round  the  table,  with  the 
exception  of  the  elder  Dantes,  whose  laugh  displayed  still  perfect 
teeth.  Mercedes  looked  pleased,  while  Fernand  grasped  the 
handle  of  his  knife  with  a convulsive  clutch. 

“In  an  hour?”  inquired  Danglars,  turning  pale.  “How  is 
that,  my  friend  ? ” 

“Why,  thus  it  is,”  replied  Dantes.  “Thanks  to  the  influence 
of  M.  Morrel,  to  whom,  next  to  my  father,  I owe  every  blessing  I 
enjoy,  every  difficulty  has  been  removed.  We  have  purchased 
permission  ; and  at  half-past  two  o’clock  the  Mayor  of  Marseilles 
will  be  waiting  for  us.  Now,  as  a quarter-past  one  has  already 
struck,  I do  not  consider  I have  asserted  too  much  in  saying,  that 
in  another  hour  and  thirty  minutes  Mercedes  will  have  become 
Mdme.  Dantes.” 

Fernand  closed  his  eyes,  a burning  sensation  passed  across  his 
brow,  and  he  was  compelled  to  support  himself  by  the  table  to 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


prevent  his  falling  from  his  chair  ; but  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts, 
ne  could  not  refrain  from  uttering  a deep  groan,  which,  however, 
was  lost  amid  the  felicitations  of  the  company. 

“Upon  my  word,"  cried  the  old  man,  “ you  make  short  work. 
Arrived  here  only  yesterday  morning,  and  married  to-day  at  three 
©’clock ! Commend  me  to  a sailor  for  going  the  quick  way  to 
work ! " 

“So  that  what  we  presumed  to  be  merely  the  betrothal  feast 
turns  out  to  be  the  actual  wedding  dinner ! ” said  Danglars. 

“No,  no  ! " answered  Dantes  ; “ you  shall  lose  nothing  by  it — 
rest  easy ! To-morrow  morning,  I am  off  to  Paris,  so  that  with 
my  task  properly  done  in  a day  I can  go  and  return  in  eight.  Back 
on  the  first  of  March,  the  second  shall  be  the  regular  wedding 
feast." 

This  prospect  of  additional  junketting  doubled  the  jollity  so  that 
the  elder  Dantes,  who  had  at  the  outset  complained  of  the  party 
being  quiet,  was  making  vain  efforts  amid  the  babble,  to  propose 
his  toast  to  the  happiness  of  the  engaged  pair.  Divining  his  in- 
tention, Edmond  rewarded  him  with  a smile  of  affection,  and 
Mercedes  glanced  at  the  cuckoo  clock  and  made  a sign  to  her 
affianced  one. 

At  this  moment  Danglars,  who  had  not  lost  sight  of  Fernand’s 
look  and  manner,  perceived  him  stagger  and  fall  back,  with  an 
almost  convulsive  spasm,  against  a seat  placed  near  one  of  the  open 
windows.  At  the  same  instant  the  ear  caught  a sort  of  indistinct 
sound  on  the  stairs,  followed  by  the  measured  tread  of  soldiery, 
with  the  clanking  of  swords  and  accoutrements  ; then  came  a hum 
of  voices,  so  as  to  deaden  even  the  mirth  of  the  bridal  party, 
among  whom  a vague  feeling  of  curiosity  and  apprehension  quelled 
every  disposition  to  talk,  and  almost  instantaneously  uneasy  still- 
ness prevailed. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  those  sounds  of  terror.  Three  distinct 
knocks  came.  Each  looked  inquiringly  in  the  countenance  of  his 

neighbor. 

“I  demand  admittance,"  said  a loud  voice  outside  the  room, 
“in  the  name  of  the  law  !"  As  no  attempt  was  made  to  prevent 
it,  the  door  was  opened,  and  a magistrate,  wearing  his  official 
scarf,  presented  himself,  followed  by  four  soldiers  and  a corporal. 
Uneasiness  now  yielded  to  dread. 

“May  J inquire  the  reason  of  this  unexpected  visit  ?"  said  M, 
Morrel,  addressing  the  magistrate,  whom  he  knew  ; “there  is 
doubtless  some  mistake." 

“ If  it  be  so,"  replied  the  magistrate,  “rely  upon  every  repara- 
tionbeing made  ; meanwhile,  I am  the  bearer  of  an  order  of  arrest, 
and  although  I most  reluctantly  perform  the  task  assigned  me,  it 
must,  nevertheless,  be  fulfilled.  Who  among  the  persons  answers 
to  the  name  of  Edmond  Dantes?"  Every  eye  was  turned  towards 
She  individual  so  described,  who,  spite  of  the  agitation  he  could 


i6 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


not  but  feel,  advanced  with  dignity,  and  said,  in  a firm  voice,  ••£ 
am  he  ; what  is  your  pleasure  with  me?” 

“ Edmond  Dantes,”  replied  the  magistrate,  “ I arrest  you  in  the 
name  of  the  law  !”  “ Me  1”  repeated  Edmond,  slightly  changing 

color,  “ and  wherefore  ?” 

11 1 cannot  inform  you,  but  you  will  be  acquainted  at  your  first 
examination.” 

“What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this?”  inquired  Caderousse,  frown- 
ingly,  of  Danglars,  who  had  assumed  an  air  of  utter  surprise. 

“ How  can  1 tell  vou?”  replied  he  ; “ I am,  like  yourself,  utterly 
bewildered  at  all  that  is  going  on,  not  a word  of  which  do  I under- 
stand.” Caderousse  then  looked  around  for  Fernand,  but  he  had 
disappeared. 

“ Where  is  Fernand?”  inquired  Caderousse. 

“ How  do  I know?”  replied  Danglars  ; “gone,  as  every  prudent 
man  ought  to  do,  to  look  after  his  own  affairs,  most  likely.  Never 
mind  where  he  is,  let  you  and  I go  and  see  what  is  to  be  done  for 
our  poor  friends  in  affliction.” 

During  this  conversation,  Dant&s,  after  having  exchanged  a 
cheerful  shake  of  the  hand  with.all  his  sympathizing  friends,  had 
surrendered  himself,  merely  saying,  “Make  yourselves  quite 
easy,  there  is  some  little  mistake  to  clear  up,  and  very  likely  I may 
not  have  to  go  so  far  as  the  prison.” 

“Oh,  to  be  sure  !”  responded  Danglars,  who  approached,  “ noth- 
ing more.” 

Dantes  descended  the  staircase,  preceded  by  the  magistrate,  and 
followed  by  the  soldiers.  A carriage  awaited  him  at  the  door ; he 
got  in,  followed  by  two  soldiers  and  the  magistrate,  and  the  vehicle 
drove  off  towards  Marseilles. 

“ Adieu  ! adieu  ! dearest  Edmond  1”  cried  Merc£d&s,  springing 
out  on  the  balcony. 

The  prisoner  caught  the  sob  of  his  betrothed,  from  her  heart,  as 
leaning  from  the  coach  he  cried — “ Good-bye,  Mercddes !”  The 
vehicle  disappeared  i 'mnd  one  of  the  turnings  of  Fort  Saint 
Nicolas. 

“Wait  for  me  here!”  cried  M.  Morrel ; “ I will  take  the  first 
conveyance  I find,  and  hurry  to  Marseilles,  whence  I will  bring 
you  word.” 

“That’s  right!”  exclaimed  all  voices  ; “go,  and  return  as 
quickly  as  you  can !” 

This  second  departure  was  followed  by  terrified  stupor  on  the 
part  of  those  left  behind.  The  old  father  and  Mercedes  remained 
for  some  time  apart,  each  absorbed  in  grief;  but  at  length  the 
victims  of  the  same  blow  raised  their  eyes,  and  rushed  into  each 
other’s  arms. 

Called  upon  for  an  explanation,  Danglars  suggested  that  his 
captain  might  have  been  smuggling  and  this  was  confirmed  by  old 
Dantes  confessing  that  his  son  had  promised  him  some  coffee  and 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  I? 

tobacco.  This  had  no  soothing  effect  on  the  girl,  who  continued 
sobbing. 

After  the  other’s  departure,  Fernand  again  become  protector 
to  Mercedes,  led  the  girl  back  to  her  home,  while  friends  of  Dantes 
conducted  the  parent  to  his  abode. 

The  rumor  of  Edmond’s  arrest  as  a Bonapartist  agent  was  not 
slow  in  circulating  throughout  the  city. 

•*  Could  you  ever  have  credited  such  a thing,  my  dear  Dang- 
lars  ?"  asked  M.  Morrel,  as,  on  his  return  to  the  port  for  the  pur- 
pose of  gleaning  fresh  tidings  of  Dantes,  he  overtook  his  super- 
cargo and  Caderousse.  “ Could  you  have  believed  such  a thing?" 

“Why,  you  know  I told  you,’’  replied  Danglars,  “ that  I con- 
sidered his  having  anchored  at  the  isle  of  Elba  as  very  suspicious." 

“And  did  you  mention  these- suspicions  to  any  person  beside 
myself?  ’’ 

“Certainly  not!"  returned  Danglars.  Then  added  in  a low 
whisper,  “You  understand  that,  on  account  of  your  uncle,  M. 
Policar  Morrel,  who  served  under  the  other  government,  and  who 
does  not  altogether  conceal  what  he  thinks  on  the  subject,  you  are 
strongly  suspected  of  regretting  the  abdication  of  Napoleon.  I 
should  injure  both  Edmond  and  yourself  to  a soul.  A subordinate, 
is  bound  to  acquaint  the  ship-owner  with  everything  that  occurs, 
but  many  things  he  ought  most  carefully  to  conceal  from  all  else." 

“ ’Tis  well,  Danglars — ’tis  well !"  replied  M.  Morrel.  11  You  are 
a worthy  fellow  ; and  I had  already  thought  of  your  interests  in  the 
event  of  poor  Edmond  having  become  captain  of  the  Pharaoh. 
I had  previously  inquired  of  Dantes  what  was  his  opinion 
of  you,  and  if  he  should  have  any  reluctance  to  continue 
you  in  your  post,  for  somehow  I have  perceived  coolness  between 
you  two  that  led  me  to  believe  that  he  would  rather  have  another 
in  you  place  as  supercargo.” 

“ He  certainly  did  think  he  had  given  you  offence  in  an  affair 
which  he  merely  referred  to  without  entering  into  particulars,  but 
that  whoever  possessed  the  good  opinion  and  confidence  of  the 
ship’s  owners  would  have  his  preference  also." 

“The  hypocrite!"  murmured  Danglars  between  his  teeth. 
“ But  now  hasten  on  board,  I will  join  you  there  ere  long."  So 
saying,  the  worthy  ship  owner  quitted  the  two  allies,  and  pro- 
ceeded. 

“You  sed,"  said  Danglars,  addressing  Caderousse,  “the  tu*n 
things  have  taken.  Do  you  still  feel  any  desire  to  stand  up  in  hi* 
defence  ? " 

“ Not  the  slightest,  but  yet  it  seems  to  me  a shocking  thing  a 
mere  joke  should  lead  to  such  consequences." 

“ But  who  perpetrated  that  joke,  let  me  ask  ? neither  you  nor 
myself,  but  Fernand  : you  knew  very  well  that  I threw  the  paper 
into  a corner  of  the  arbor, — indeed,  I fancied  1 had  destroyed  it." 
“ On,  no  l"  replied  Caderousse,  “ that  I can  answer  for,  you  did 
2 


i3 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


not.  I only  wish  I could  see  it  now  as  plainly  as  I saw  it  lying 
crumpled  in  a corner.” 

“ Well,  then,  if  you  did,  depend  upon  it,  Fernand  picked  it  up, 
and  either  copied  it  or  caused  it  to  be  copied  ; perphaps,  even,  he 
did  not  take  the  trouble  of  recopying  it.  And  now  I think  of  it,  by 
Heavens!  he  has  sent  the  letter  itself ! Fortunately,  for  me,  the 
handwriting  was  disguised.” 

“Then  you  were  aware  of  Dant&s  being  engaged  in  a 
conspiracy  ? ” 

‘•Not  I.  As  I before  said,  I thought  the  whole  thing  was  a joke, 
nothing  more.  It  seems,  however,  that  I have  stumbled  upon  the 
truth.” 

“ Still,”  argued  Caderousse,  “ I would  give  a great  deal  if  noth- 
ing of  the  kind  had  happened  ; or,  at  least,  that  I had  had  no 
hand  in  it.  You  will  see,  Danglars,  that  it  will  turn  out  an  unlucky 
job  for  both  of  us.” 

“ Nonsense ! If  any  harm  comes  of  it,  it  should  fall  on  the 
guilty  person  ; and  that,  you  know,  is  Fernand.  How  can  we  be 
implicated  in  any  way  ? All  we  have  got  to  do  is,  to  keep  our  own 
counsel,  and  remain  perfectly  quiet,  not  breathing  a word  to  any 
living  soul ; and  you  will  see  that  the  storm  will  pass  away.” 

“ Amen  ! ” responded  Caderousse,  waving  his  hand  in  token  of 
adieu  to  Danglars,  and,  moving  his  head  to  and  fro,  and  muttering 
as  he  went,  after  the  manner  of  one  whose  mind  was  overcharged. 

“So  far,  then,”  said  Danglars,  mentally,  “all  has  gone  as  I 
would  have  it.  I am,  temporarily,  commander  of  the  Pharaoh, 
with  the  certainty  of  being  permanently  so,  if  that  fool  Caderousse 
can  be  persuaded  to  hold  his  tongue.  My  only  fear  is  the  chance 
of  Dantes  being  released.  But  bah!  he  is  in  the  hands  of  Jus- 
tice; and,”  added  he,  with  a smile,  “she  will  keep  her  prey.” 
So  saying,  he  leaped  into  a boat,  desiring  to  be  rowed  on  board 
the  Pharaoh,  where  M.  Morrel  had  appointed  to  meet  him. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  DEPUTY  PROSECUTOR. 

In  one  of  the  large  mansions  situated  in  the  Rue  du  Grand 
Cours  opposite  the  fountain  of  Medusas,  a second  marriage-feast 
was  being  celebrated,  almost  at  the  same  hour  with  the  ill-fated 
nuptial  repast  given  by  Dantes. 

The  guests  were  still  at  table,  and  the  heated  and  energetic  con- 
versation that  prevailed  betrayed  the  violent  and  vindictive  pas- 
sions that  then  agitated  each  Southron,  where,  unhappily,  religious 
itrife  had  long  given  increased  bitterness  to  the  violence  of  party 
feeling. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


19 

The  emperor,  now  king  of  the  petty  isle  of  Elba,  was  looked 
Upon  as  a ruined  man,  separated  for  ever  from  any  fresh  connec- 
tion with  France  or  claim  to  her  throne. 

An  old  man,  decorated  with  the  cross  of  Saint  Louis,  now  rose 
and  proposed  the  health  of  King  Louis  XVIII.  This  aged  individ- 
ual was  the  Marquis  of  Saint-Meran.  This  toast  excited  universal 
enthusiasm  ; glasses  were  elevated  in  the  air,  and  the  ladies, 
snatching  their  bouquets  from  their  fair  bosoms,  strewed  the  table 
with  their  floral  treasures.  In  a word,  an  almost  poetical  fervor 
prevailed. 

“ Ah!”  said  the  Marchioness  of  Saint-Meran,  a woman  with  a 
stern,  forbidding  eye,  though  still  noble  and  elegant-looking,  de- 
spite her  having  reached  her  fiftieth  year — 44  ah  ! these  revolution- 
ists, who  have  driven  us  from  those  very  possessions  they  after- 
wards purchased  for  a mere  trifle  during  the  Reign  of  Terror, 
would  be  compelled  to  own,  were  they  here,  that  all  true  devotion 
was  on  our  side  ; yes,  yes,  they  could  not  help  admitting  that  th<e 
king,  for  whom  we  sacrificed  rank,  wealth,  and  station,  was  truly 
our  ‘Louis  the  Well-beloved,'  while  their  wretched  usurper  has 
been,  and  ever  will  be,  to  them  their  evil  genius,  their  4 Napoleon 
the  accursed.’  Am  I not  right,  Villefort? 

“ I beg  your  pardon,  madame.  I really  must  pray  you  to  excuse 
me,  but — in  truth — I was  not  attending  to  the  conversation.” 

41  Lady,”  interposed  the  same  elderly  personage  who  had  pro- 
posed the  toast,  44  let  the  young  people  alone  ; let  me  tell  you,  oa 
one’s  wedding  day  there  are  more  agreeable  subjects  than  poli- 
tics.” 

44  Never  mind,  dearest  mother/*  said  a lovely  girl,  with  a profu- 
sion of  light  brown  hair,  and  eyes  that  seemed  to  float  in  liquid 
pearl,  44  ’tis  all  my  fault  for  seizing  upon  M.  c^e  Villefort,  so  as  to 
prevent  his  listening  to  what  you  said.  But  there — now  take  him 
— he  is  your  own  for  as  long  as  you  like.  M.  Villefort,  I beg  to  re- 
mind you  my  mother  speaks  to  you.” 

44  If  my  lady  will  deign  to  repeat  the  words  I but  imperfectly 
caught,  I shall  be  delighted  to  answer,”  said  M.  de  Villefort. 

44  Never  mind,  Renee,”  replied  the  marchioness,  with  such  a 
look  of  tenderness  as  all  were  astonished  to  see  her  harsh  dry  feat- 
ures capable  of  expressing  ; for,  however  all  other  feelings  may  be 
withered  in  a woman’s  nature,  there  is  always  one  bright  smiling 
spot  in  the  maternal  breast,  and  that  is  where  a dearly-beloved 
child  is  concerned, — 44 1 forgive  you.  What  I was  saying,  Ville. 
fort,  was,  that  the  Bonapartists  had  neither  our  sincerity,  enthusi- 
asm, nor  devotion.” 

“They  had,  however,  what  supplied  the  place  of  those  fine 
qualities,”  replied  the  young  man,  <c  and  that  was  fanaticism. 
Napoleon  is  the  Mahomet  of  the  West,  and  is  worshipped  by  his 
commonplace  but  ambitious  followers,  not  only  a?  a leader  and 
lawgiver,  but  also  as  the  personification  of  equality.  He  has  still 


20 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


preserved  a train  of  parasitical  satellites.  Still,  it  has  been  so  with 
other  usurpers  : Cromwell,  for  instance,  who  was  not  half  so  bad 
as  Napoleon,  had  his  partisans  and  advocates.” 

“Do  you  know,  Villefort,  that  you  are  talking  in  a most  dread- 
fully revolutionary  strain  ? But  I excuse  it  ; it  is  impossible  to  ex- 
pect the  son  of  a Girondin  to  be  free  from  the  old  leaven.”  A 
deep  crimson  suffused  the  countenance  of  Villefort. 

“ ’Tis  true,”  answered  he,  “ that  my  father  was  a Girondin,  but 
he  was  not  among  the  number  of  those  who  vdfced  for  the  king’s 
death.  For  my  own  part,  I have  laid  aside  even  the  name  of  my 
father,  and  altogether  disown  his  political  principles.  He  was — 
nay,  probably  may  still  be — a Bonapartist,  and  is  called  Noirtier  ; 
I,  on  the  contrary,  am  a stanch  royalist,  and  style  myself  de  Ville- 
fort. Let  what  may  remain  of  revolutionary  sap  exhaust  itself  and 
die  away  with  the  old  trunk,  and  condescend  only  to  regard  the 
young  shoot  which  has  started  up  at  a distance  from  the  parent 
tree,  without  having  the  power,  any  more  than  the  wish,  to  separate 
entirely  from  the  stock  from  which  it  sprung.” 

“Bravo,  Villefort!”  cried  the  marquis;  “excellently  well 
said  ! Come,  now,  I have  hopes  of  obtaining  what  I have  been 
for  years  endeavoring  to  persuade  my  lady  to  promise,  namely, 
perfect  amnesty  and  forgetfulness  of  the  past.” 

“ With  all  my  heart,”  replied  the  marchioness  ; “let  the  past  be 
for  ever  forgotten ! I promise  you  it  affords  me  as  little  pleasure  to 
revive  it  as  it  does  you.  All  I ask  is,  that  Villefort  will  be  firm  and 
inflexible  for  the  future  in  marking  his  political  principles.  Re- 
member also,  Villefort,  that  we  have  pledged  ourselves  to  his  maj- 
esty for  your  fealty  and  strict  loyalty,  and  that  at  our  recommenda- 
tion the  king  consented  to  forget  the  past,  as  I do”  (and  here  she 
extended  to  him  hbr  hand) — “ at  your  entreaty.  Only,  if  any  con- 
spirator falls  under  your  hand,  mark  that  you  will  have  the  more 
eyes  on  you  from  the  knowledge  that  you  belong  to  a line  perhaps 
connected  with  the  plotters.” 

“Alas,  my  profession  and  the  times  we  live  in,”  returned  the 
lawyer,  “order  me  to  be  severe.  I will  be  so.  I have  carried 
some  political  trials  through,  and  have  proven  how  I stand.  We 
are  not  at  the  end,  eMier.” 

“ Do  you  believe  so  ? ” asked  the  old  dame. 

“ I am  afraid  so.  On  the  Island  of  Elba  Napoleon  is  too  near 
to  France  ; almost  in  sight  of  our  shores,  his  proximity  nourishes 
his  partisans'  hopes.  Marseilles  is  full  of  retired  officers  of  his, 
who  daily  pick  quarrels  under  flimsy  pretexts  with  the  royalists  ; 
hence  duels  among  the  higher  classes  and  murders  among  the 
low.” 

“ I wish  you  would  get  up  a notable  trial,”  exclaimed  Salvieux’s 
daughter,  a bright  friend  of  Renee’s,  “I  have  never  seen  a case 
in  court.  I am  told  it  is  entertaining.” 

“ Very  ; for  instead  of  a sham  drama  you  have  the  genuine  one. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


21 


where  the  villain  is  led  off  the  stage  reauy  to  go  upon  the  scaffold. 
You  shall  have  such  a sight,  and  I wish  the  chance  came  early  ! ” 

At  this  moment,  and  as  though  the  utterance  of  Villefort’ s wish 
had  sufficed  to  effect  its  accomplishment,  a servant  entered  the 
room,  and  whispered  a few  words.  Villefort  immediately  rose 
from  table  and  quitted  the  room  upon  the  plea  of  urgent  business  : 
he  soon,  however,  returned,  his  whole  face  beaming  with  delight. 

“ And  wherefore  were  you  called  away  just  now?”  asked 
Mdlle.  de  Saint-Meran,  with  an  air  of  deep  interest. 

‘‘For  a very  serious  affair,  Bonaparte  conspiracy  has  just  been 
discovered.” 

“ Can  I believe  my  ears?  ” cried  the  marquise. 

“ The  Royal  Prosecutor  is  informed  by  a friend  to  the  Throne 
*nd  Religion  that  one  Edmond  Dantes,  first  mate  of  the  ship 
Pharaoh , in  this  morning  from  Smyrna,  after  touching  at  Naples 
and  Porto  Ferrajo,  was  charged  by  Murat  with  a letter  for  the 
Usurper,  and  by  the  latter  with  another  for  the  Bonapartist  Club 
at  Paris.  The  proof  of  his  crime  will  be  found  on  arresting  him  : 
for  he  will  have  the  letter  on  him,  or  it  will  be  at  his  father’s,  or 
aboard  the  ship.” 

“But,”  said  Renee,  “this  letter,  which,  after  all,  is  but  an 
anonymous  scrawl,  is  not  even  addressed  to  you,  but  to  the  proc- 
tor. ’ ’ 

“True;  but  that  gentleman  being  absent,  his  secretary,  by  his 
orders,  opened  his  letters : thinking  this  one  of  importance,  he 
sent  for  me,  but  not  finding  me,  took  upon  himself  to  give  the 
necessary  orders  for  arresting  the  accused  party.” 

“ Oh,  Villefort!  ” cried  Renee,  clasping  her  hands,  and  looking 
toward  her  lover  with  piteous  earnestness,  “be  merciful  on  this 
the  day  of  our  betrothal.” 

“Never  mind  that  foolish  girl,  Villefort,”  said  the  marchionessr 
“ she  will  soon  get  over  these  things.”  So  saying,  Lady  Saint- 
Meran,  extended  her  dry  bony  hand  to  Villefort,  who,  while  im- 
printing a son-in-law’s  respectful  salute  on  it,  looked  at  Renee,  as 
much  as  to  say,  “ I must  try  and  fancy  ’tis  your  dear  hand  I kiss.” 

“ These  are  mournful  auspices  ! ” sighed  poor  Renee. 

“Upon  my  word,  child  ! ” exclaimed  the  angry  marchioness, 
“ your  folly  exceeds  all  bounds.  I should  be  glad  to  know  what 
connection  there  can  possibly  be  between  your  sickly  sentimental- 
ity and  the  affairs  of  the  state  ! ” 

“Oh,  mother  ! ” murmured  Renee. 

“ Nay,  madame,  I pray  you  pardon  this  little  traitor;  I promise 
you  that  to  make  up  for  her  want  of  loyalty,  I will  be  most  inflexi- 
bly severe  ; ” then  casting  an  expressive  glance  at  his  betrothed, 
which  seemed  to  say,  “Fear  not,  for  your  dear  sake  my  justice 
shall  be  tempered  with  mercy,”  and  receiving  a sweet  and  approv- 
ing smile  in  return,  Villefort  quitted  the  room. 

No  sooner  had  Vil^fort  left,  than  he  assumed  the  grave  air 


22 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


man  who  holds  the  balance  of  life  and  death  in  his  hands.  E& 
cept  the  recollection  of  the  line  of  politics  his  father  had  adopted4 
and  which  might  interfere,  unless  he  acted  with  the  greatest  pru. 
dence,  with  his  own  career,  Grand  Villefort  was  as  happy  as  a ma» 
could  be.  Already  rich,  he  held  a high  official  situation,  though 
only  twenty-seven.  He  was  about  to  marry  a young  and  charm- 
ing woman  ; and  besides  her  personal  attractions,  which  were  very 
great,  Mdlle.  Saint-Meran’s  family  possessed  considerable  polit- 
ical influence,  which,  they  would,  of  course,  exert  in  his  favor. 

The  prosecutor’s  deputy  found  the  prisoner  guarded  in  the  wait- 
ing-room of  his  residence  ; he  was  calm  and  smiling.  Villefort 
gave  him  a side  glance  and  taking  the  charge,  sheet  from  a police- 
officer,  entered  another  room,  saying  ; “ Bring  in  the  prisoner!  ” 

Rapid  though  his  glance  was,  he  was  inclined  toward  the  cap- 
tive, but  he  stifled  his  compassion  and  Smoothed  his  features  as  he 
sat  at  his  desk.  Dantes  was  brought  in,  pale  but  quiet  and  smil- 
ing ; saluting  his  judge  with  easy  politeness,  looked  round  for  a 
seat,  as  if  he  had  been  at  M.  Morrel’s.  It  was  then  that  he  en- 
countered for  the  first  time,  Villefort’ s look, — that  look  peculiar  to 
justice,  which,  whilst  it  seems  to  read  the  culprit’s  thoughts,  be- 
trays nought  of  its  own. 

“ Who  and  what  are  you?”  demanded  Villefort,  turning  over  a 
pile  of  papers,  containing  information  relative  to  the  prisoner,  that 
an  agent  of  police  had  given  to  him  on  his  entry. 

“ My  name  is  Edmond  Dantes,”  replied  the  young  man  calmly ; 
“ I am  mate  of  the  Pharaoh , belonging  to  Messrs.  Morrel  and 
Son.” 

“Your  age?”  continued  Villefort. “Nineteen,”  returned 

Dantes. 

“ What  were  you  doing  at  the  moment  you  were  arrested?  ” 

“ I was  at  my  wedding  feast,”  said  the  young  man,  his  voice 
slightly  tremulous,  so  great  was  the  contrast  between  that  happy 
moment  and  the  painful  ceremony  he  was  now  undergoing  ; so 
great  was  the  contrast  between  the  sombre  aspect  of  M.  de  Ville- 
fort and  the  radiant  face  of  Mercedes. 

“ You  were  at  your  marriage  feast?  ” said  the  deputy,  shudder- 
ing in  spite  of  himself. 

“Yes,  sir,  I am  on  the  point  of  marrying  a girl  I have  been  at- 
tached to  for  three  years.”  Villefort,  impassive  as  he  was,  was 
struck  with  this  coincidence  ; and  the  tremulous  voice  of  Dantes, 
surprised  in  the  midst  of  his  happines,  struck  a sympathetic  chord 
in  his  own  bosom  ; — he  also  was  on  the  point  of  being  married, 
and  he  was  summoned  from  his  own  happiness  to  destroy  that  of 
another.  “ This  philosophic  reflection,”  thought  he,  “ will  make 
a great  sensation  at  Saint-Meran’s;”  and  he  arranged  mentally, 
whilst  Dantes  awaited  further  questions,  the  antithesis  by  which 
orators  often  create  a reputation  for  eloquence.  When  this  speech 
was  arranged,  Villefort  turned  to  Dantes. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


23 


#<lt  is  reported  your  political  opinions  are  extreme,"  said  Ville- 
fort,  who  had  never  heard  anything  of  the  kind,  but  was  not  sorry 
to  make  this  inquiry,  as  if  it  were  an  accusation. 

" My  political  opinions!  ” replied  Dantes.  0 Alas  ! sir,  I never 
had  any  opinions.  I am  hardly  nineteen.  If  I obtain  the  situa- 
tion I desire,  I shall  owe  it  to  M.  Morrel.  Thus  all  my  opinions — 
i will  not  say  public,  but  private — are  confined  to  these  three  sen- 
timent;— I love  my  father,  I respect  M.  Morrel,  and  I adore  Mer- 
cedes. This,  sir,  is  all  I can  tell  you,  and  you  see  how  uninter- 
esting it  is."  As  Dantes  spoke,  Villefort  gazed  at  his  ingenuous 
and  open  countenance,  and  recollected  the  words  of  Renee,  who, 
without  knowing  who  the  culprit  was,  had  besought  his  indulgence 
for  him. 

“ Faith  ! " said  Villefort,  “ he  is  a noble  fellow  ! I hope  I shall 
gain  Renee’s  favor  easily  by  obeying  the  first  command  she  ever 
imposed  on  me.  I shall  have  at  least  a pressure  of  the  hand  in 
public,  and  a sweet  kiss  in  private.”  Full  of  this  idea,  Villefort’s 
face  became  so  joyous,  that  when  he  turned  to  Dantes,  the  latter, 
who  had  watched  the  change  on  his  physiognomy,  was  smiling 
also. 

“Sir,"  said  Villefort,  “have  you  any  enemies,  at  least  that  you 
know?  " 

“ Enemies?”  replied  Dantes  ; “ my  position  is  not  sufficiently 
elevated  for  that.  As  for  my  temper,  that  is,  perhaps,  somewhat 
too  hasty  ; but  I have  striven  to  repress  it.  I have  had  ten  or 
twelve  sailors  under  me  ; and  if  you  question  them,  they  will  tell 
you  that  they  love  and  respect  me,  not  as  a father,  for  I am  too 
young,  but  as  an  elder  brother.” 

“ But  instead  of  enemies  you  may  have  excited  jealousy.  You 
are  about  to  become  captain  at  nineteen — an  elevated  post  ; you 
are  about  to  marry  a pretty  girl,  who  loves  you  ; and  good  fortune 
may  have  excited  envy.” 

“You  are  right ; you  know  men  better  than  I do,  and  what  you 
say  may  possibly  be  the  case,  I confess  ; I prefer  not  knowing 
them,  because  then  I should  be  forced  to  hate  them." 

“ You  are  wrong  ; you  should  always  strive  to  see  clearly  around 
you.  You  seem  a worthy  young  man  ; I will  depart  from  the 
strict  line  of  my  duty  to  aid  you  in  discovering  the  author  of 
this  accusation.  Here  is  the  paper;  do  you  know  the  writing?” 
As  he  spoke,  Villefort  drew  the  letter  from  his  pocket,  and  pre- 
sented it  to  Dantes,  who  read  it.  A cloud  passed  over  his  brow  a* 
he  said  : 

“ No,  I do  not  know  the  writing,  and  yet  it  is  tolerably  plain. 
Whoever  did  it  writes  well.  I am  very  fortunate,”  added  he, 
looking  gratefully  at  Villefort,  “to  be  examined  by  such  a man  as 
you  ; for  this  envious  person  is  a real  enemy.”  And  by  the  rapid 
glance  that  the  young  man’s  eyes  shot  forth,  Villefort  saw  how 
much  energy  lay  hid  beneath  this  mildness. 


H 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  C/US  TO. 


44  Now,”  said  the  deputy,  44  answer  me  frankly,  not  as  a prisoner 
to  a judge,  but  as  one  man  to  another  who  takes  an  interest  in 
him,  what  truth  is  there  in  the  accusation  contained  in  this  anony- 
mous letter  ? ” And  Villefort  threw  disdainfully  Oil  his  bureau  the 
letter  Dantes  had  just  given  back  to  him. 

44  None  at  all.  I will  tell  you  the  real  facts.’ * 

And  he  related  the  errands  entrusted  to  him  by  his  captain. 

4 *Ah!  ” said  Villefort,  44  this  seems  to  me  the  truth.  If  you 
have  been  culpable,  it  was  imprudence,  and  this  was  legitimized 
by  the  orders  of  your  captain.  Give  up  this  letter  you  have 
brought  from  Elba,  and  pass  your  word  you  will  appear  should 
you  be  required,  and  go  and  rejoin  your  friends.” 

44 1 am  free,  then,  sir?  ” cried  Dantes,  joyfully. 44  Yes  ; but 

first  give  me  this  letter.” 

14  You  have  it  already  ; for  it  was  taken  from  me  with  some 
others  which  I see  in  that  packet.” 

4 4 Stop  a moment,”  said  the  deputy,  as  Dant&s  took  his  hat  and 
gloves.  44  To  whom  is  it  addressed  ? ” 

44  To  M.  Noirtier,  Rue  Coq-Heron,  Paris.”  Had  a thunderbolt 
fallen  into  the  room,  Villefort  could  not  have  been  more  stupefied. 
He  sank  into  his  seat,  and  hastily  turning  over  the  packet,  drew 
forth  the  fatal  letter,  at  which  he  glanced  with  an  expression  of 
terror. 

44  Do  you  then  know  him  ? ” 

44  No,”  replied  Villefort;  44  a faithful  servant  of  the  king  does 
not  know  conspirators. 

44  It  is  a conspiracy,  then?  ” asked  Dantes,  who,  after  believing 
himself  free,  now  began  to  feel  a tenfold  alarm. 

44  Have  you  shown  this  letter  to  any  one  ? ” asked  Villefort,  be' 
coming  still  more  pale. 

44  To  no  one,  on  my  honor.” 

Villefort’ s brow  darkened  more  and  more,  his  white  lips  and 
clenched  teeth  filled  Dantes  with  apprehension.  After  reading  the 
letter,  Villefort  passed  his  chill  hand  over  his  brow  and  muttered  : 
44  If  he  knew  this  letter  and  ever  learnt  that  Noirtier  is  my  father, 
I should  be  ruined  forever!  ” 

He  tossed  the  paper  into  the  fire  where  it  was  consumed. 

44-You  see,”  said  he,  44  the  evidence  is  destroyed.  You  and  I 
alone  knew  of  it ; and  I expect  you  to  deny  if  questioned.” 

44 1 will  deny,  sir  ; take  it  easy,”  said  the  captain. 

The  law  officer  rang  for  a policeman  who  came  and  who  nodded 
on  receiving  whispered  instructions. 

44  Go  with  him,”  said  the  vice-prosecutor. 

Dantes  bowed  and  withdrew.  The  moment  the  door  closed  the 
lawyer  dropped  upon  a chair. 

"Alas!  alas!”  murmured  he,  44  if  my  principal  had  been  at 
Marseilles  I should  have  been  ruined.  This  accursed  letter  would 
have  destroyed  all  my  hopes.  Oh ! my  father,  must  your  past 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


25 


career  always  interfere  with  my  successes  ?f#  Suddenly  a light 
passed  over  his  face,  a smile  played  round  his  mouth,  and  his  lips 
became  unclenched. 

“This  will  do/’  said  he,  “and  from  this  letter,  which  might 
have  ruined  me,  1 will  make  my  fortune/'  And  after  having  as- 
sured himself  the  prisoner  was  gone,  the  deputy  hastened  to  his 

bride. 


CHAPTER  VI, 

IF  CASTLE. 

THE  commissary  of  police,  as  he  traversed  the  antechamber, 
made  a sign  to  two  gendarmes,  who  placed  themselves  one  on 
Dantes'  right  and  the  other  on  his  left.  A door  that  communicated 
with  the  Palace  of  Justice  was  opened,  and  they  traversed  a long 
range  of  gloomy  corridors,  whose  appearance  might  have  made 
even  the  boldest  shudder.  The  Palace  communicated  with  the 
prison, — a sombre  edifice.  After  numberless  windings,  Dantes 
saw  an  iron  door.  The  commissary  knocked  thrice,  every  blow 
seeming  to  Dantes  as  if  struck  on  his  heart.  The  door  opened, 
the  two  gendarmes  gently  pushed  him  forward,  and  the  door  closed 
with  a loud  sound  behind  him.  It  was  four  o’clock  when  Dante* 
was  placed  in  this  chamber.  It  was,  as  we  have  said,  the  first  of 
March,  and  the  prisoner  was  soon  buried  in  darkness.  At  last, 
about  ten  o’clock,  and  just  as  Dantes  began  to  despair,  steps  were 
heard  in  the  corridor,  a key  turned  in  the  lock,  the  bolts  creaked, 
the  massy  oaken  door  flew  open,  and  a flood  of  light  from  two 
torches  pervaded  the  apartment.  By  the  torchlight  Dantes  saw 
the  glittering  sabres  and  carbines  of  four  gendarmes.  He  had  ad- 
vanced at  first,  but  stopped  at  the  sight  of  this  fresh  accession  of 
force. 

“ Are  you  come  to  fetch  me?  ” asked  he.-- — “ Yes,”  replied  a 
gendarme. 

“ By  the  orders  of  the  deploy  ? ” “ I believe  so.”  The  con- 

viction that  they  came  from  Villefort  relieved  all  Dantes’  appre- 
hensions ; he  advanced  calmly,  and  placed  himself  in  the  centre 
of  the  escort.  A carriage  waited  at  the  door,  the  coachman  was 
on  the  box,  and  an  exempt  seated  behind  him. 

Dantes  was  about  to  speak  ; but  feeling  himself  uraged  forward, 
and  having  neither  the  power  nor  the  intention  to  resist,  he 
mounted  the  steps,  and  was  in  an  instant  seated  inside  between 
two  gendarmes  ; the  two  others  took  their  places  opposite,  and  the 
carriage  rolled  heavily  over  the  stones. 

The  prisoner  glanced  at  the  windows — they  were  grated  ; he  had 
Changed  his  prison  for  another  that  was  conveying  him  he  knew 


26 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


not  whither.  Through  the  grating,  however,  Dant&s  saw  they 
were  passing  to  the  port. 

The  carriage  stopped,  the  exempt  descended,  approached  the 
guard-house,  a dozen  soldiers  came  out  and  formed  themselves  in 
order  ; Dantes  saw  the  reflection  of  their  muskets  by  the  light  of 
the  lamps  on  the  quay. 

They  all  advanced  toward  a boat,  which  a custom-house  officer 
held  by  a chain,  near  the  quay. 

The  soldiers  looked  at  Dantes  with  an  air  of  stupid  curiosity. 
In  an  instant  he  was  placed  in  the  stern-sheets,  between  the  gen- 
darmes, whilst  the  exempt  stationed  himself  at  the  bow  ; a shove 
sent  the  boat  adrift,  and  four  sturdy  oarsmen  impelled  it  rapidly 
toward  the  Pilon.  At  a shout  from  the  boat,  the  chain  that  closes 
the  mouth  of  the  port  was  lowered,  and  in  a second  they  were  out- 
side the  harbor. 

The  most  vague  and  wild  thoughts  passed  through  his  mind. 
The  boat  they  were  in  could  not  make  a long  voyage  ; there  was 
no  vessel  at  anchor  outside  the  harbor  ; he  thought,  perhaps,  they 
were  going  to  leave  him  on  some  distant  point.  He  was  not 
bound,  nor  had  they  made  any  attempt  to  handcuff  him ; this 
seemed  a good  augury.  Besides,  had  not  the  deputy,  who  had 
been  so  kind  to  him,  told  him  that  provided  he  did  not  pronounce 
the  dreaded  name  of  Noirtier,  he  had  nothing  to  apprehend? 
Had  not  Villefort  in  his  presence  destroyed  the  fatal  letter,  the 
only  proof  against  him  ? He  waited  silently,  striving  to  pierce 
through  the  darkness. 

They  had  left  the  lighthouse  on  the  right,  and  were  now  opposite 
Point  Catalans.  It  seemed  to  the  prisoner  that  he  could  distinguish 
a female  form  on  the  beach,  for  it  was  there  Mercedes  dwelt. 
How  was  it  that  a presentiment  did  not  warn  Mercedes  her  lover 
was  near  her  ? 

One  light  alone  was  visible  ; and  Dantes  recognized  it  as  com- 
ing from  the  chamber  of  Mercedes.  A loud  cry  could  be  hoard 
by  her.  He  did  not  utter  it.  What  would  his  guards  think  if 
they  heard  him  shout  like  a madman  ? 

He  remained  silent,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  light  ; the  boat  went 
on,  but  the  prisoner  only  thought  of  Mercedes.  A rising  ground 
hid  the  light.  Dantes  turned  and  perceived  they  had  got  out  to 
sea.  Whilst  he  had  been  absorbed  in  thought,  they  had  hoisted 
the  sail. 

In  spite  of  his  repugnance  to  address  the  guards,  Dantbs  turned 
to  the  nearest  gendarme,  and  taking  his  hand  : 

“ Comrade,”  said  he,  “I  adjure  you,  as  a Christian  and  a sol- 
dier, to  tell  me  where  we  are  going.  I am  Captain  Dantes,  a loyal 
Frenchman,  though  accused  of  treason;  tell  me  where  you  are 
conducting  me,  and  I promise  you  on  my  honor  I will  submit  to 
Uiy  fate.” 

The  gendarme  looked  irresolutely  at  his  companion,  who  re* 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 2J 

{urned  for  answer  a sigh  that  said,  “ I see  no  great  harm  in  telling 
him  now/'  and  the  gendarme  replied  : 

44  But  my  orders.” 44  Your  orders  do  not  forbid  your  telling 

me  what  I must  know  in  ten  minutes,  in  half  an  hour,  or  an  hour. 
You  see  I cannot  escape,  even  if  I intended.” 

44  Look  round  you  then.”  Dantes  rose  and  looked  forward, 
when  he  saw  rise  within  a hundred  yards  of  him  the  black  and 
frowning  rock  on  which  stands  Castle  If.  This  gloomy  fortress, 
which  has  for  more  than  three  hundred  years  furnished  food  for  so 
many  wild  legends,  seemed  to  Dantes  like  a scaffold  to  a malefac- 
tor. 

4*  The  Castle  ? " cried  he.  44  You  think,  that  I am  to  be  imprisoned 
there  ? ” 

44  It  is  probable  ; ali  the  formalities  have  been  gone  through.” 

44  In  spite  of  M.  de  Villefort’s  promises?  ” 44  I do  not  know 

what  M.  de  Villefort  promised  you,”  said  the  gendarme,  44  but  I 
know  we  are  taking  you  to  the  Castle.” 

At  this  moment  a violent  shock  made  the  bark  tremble.  One  of 
the  sailors  leaped  on  shore,  a cord  creaked  as  it  ran  through  a 
pulley,  and  Dantes  guessed  they  were  at  the  end  of  the  voyage. 

His  guardians,  talcing  hold  of  his  arms,  forced  him  to  rise,  and 
dragged  him  toward  the  steps  that  lead  to  the  gate  of  the  fortress, 
whilst  the  exempt  followed,  armed  with  a bayonet  and  rifle. 

44  Where  is  the  prisoner? ” said  a voice. 

44  Let  him  follow  me  ; I am  going  to  conduct  him  to  his  cell.” 

44  Go  ! ” said  the  gendarmes,  pushing  Dantes. 

The  prisoner  followed  his  conductor,  who  led  him  into  a room 
almost  under  ground,  whose  bare  and  reeking  walls  seemed  as 
though  impregnated  with  tears  ; a lamp  placed  on  a stool  illumined 
the  apartment  faintly,  and  showed  Dantes  the  features  of  his  con- 
ductor, an  under-jailer,  ill-clothed,  and  of  sullen  appearance. 

•f  Here  is  your  chamber  for  to-night,”  said  he.  44  It  is  late,  and 
the  governor  is  asleep.  To-morrow,  perhaps,  he  may  change  you. 
In  the  mean  time  there  is  bread,  water,  and  fresh  straw  ; and  that 
is  all  a prisoner  can  wish  for.  Good-night.*’  And  before  Dantes 
could  open  his  mouth — before  he  had  noticed  where  the  jailer 
placed  his  bread  or  the  water — before  he  had  glanced  toward  the 
corner  where  the  straw  was,  the  jailer  disappeared,  taking  with 
him  the  lamp. 

With  the  first  dawn  the  jailer  returned,  with  orders  to  leave 
Dantes  where  he  was.  He  found  the  prisoner  in  the  same  position, 
as  if  fixed  there,  his  eyes  swollen  with  weeping.  He  passed  the 
night  standing,  and  without  sleep.  The  jailer  advanced  ; Dantes 
appeared  not  to  perceive  him.  He  touched  him  on  the  shoulder, 
Edmond  started. 

4 Have  you  not  slept?”  said  the  jailer.—44  I do  not  know/* 
replied  Dantes. 

44  Do  you  wish  for  anything  ? ” 


28 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRJSTQ 


44  I wish  to  see  the  governor.' * 

The  jailer  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  left. 

Dantes  followed  him  with  his  eyes,  and  stretched  forth  his  hands 
toward  the  open  door  ; but  the  door  closed.  All  his  emotion  then 
burst  forth  : he  cast  himself  on  the  ground,  weeping  bitterly,  and 
asking  himself  what  crime  he  had  committed  that  he  was  thus 
punished. 

The  day  passed  thus  ; he  scarcely  tasted  food,  but  walked  round 
and  round  the  cell  like  a wild  beast  in  its  cage. 

The  next  morning  the  turnkey  made  his  appearance. 

“ Well,”  said  he,  “ are  you  more  reasonable  to-day  ? '*  Dantes 
made  no  reply. 

44  Come,  take  courage  ; do  you  want  anything  in  my  power  to  do 
for  you  ? " 

44  l wish  to  see  the  governor.” 

44  What  you  ask  is  impossible  ; but  if  you  are  very  well  behaved 
you  will  be  allowed  to  walk  about,  and  some  day  you  will  meet 
tne  governor  ; and  if  he  chooses  to  reply,  that  is  his  affair.” 

44  But,”  asked  Dantes,  “ how  long  shall  I have  to  wait?  " 

44  Ah  ! a month — -six  months — a year.” 

“ It  is  too  long  a time.  I wish  to  see  him  at  once,” 

44  Ah,”  said  the  jailer,  44  do  not  always  brood  over  what  is  im- 
possible, or  you  will  be  mad  in  a fortnight.  Yes  : we  have  an  in- 
stance here  : it  was  by  always  offering  a million  of  francs  to  the 
governor  for  his  liberty  that  a priest  became  mad,  who  was  in  this 
chamber  before  you  ; he  was  put  in  a dungeon.” 

44  Listen  ! ” said  Dantes.  44  I am  not  a priest  or  mad  ; perhaps 
I shall  b£,  but  at  present,  unfortunately,  I am  not.  I do  not  offer 
you  a million,  because  I have  it  not  ; but  I will  give  you  a hundred 
crowns  if,  the  first  time  you  go  to  Marseilles,  you  will  seek  out  a girl 
named  Mercedes,  at  the  Catalans,  and  give  her  two  lines  from 
me.” 

“ If  I took  them,  and  were  detected,  I should  lose  my  place, 
which  is  worth  two  thousand  francs  a year  ; so  that  I should  be  a 
great  fool  to  run  such  a risk  for  three  hundred.” 

41  Well,”  said  Dantes,  44  mark  this  ; if  you  refuse  at  least  to  tell 
Mercedes  I am  here,  I will  some  day  hide  myself  behind  the  door, 
and  when  you  enter  I will  dash  out  your  brains  with  this  stool.” 
'‘Threats!  ” cried  the  jailer,  retreating  and  putting  himself  on 
the  defensive  ; 44  you  are  certainly  going  mad.  The  abbe  began 
like  you,  and  in  three  days  you  will  want  a strait-waistcoat ; but, 
fortunately,  there  are  dungeons  here.” 

The  jailer  went  out,  and  returned  in  an  instant  with  a corporal 
and  four  soldiers. 

44  By  the  governor’s  orders,”  said  he,  44  conduct  the  prisoner  to 
the  story  beneath.”  • 

44  To  the  dungeon  ? ” said  the  corporal. 


THE  CQUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  2$ 

“Yes  ; we  must  put  madmen  with  madmen.’*  The  soldiers 
seized  Dantes,  who  followed  passively. 

He  descended  fifteen  steps,  and  the  door  of  a dungeon  was 
opened,  and  he  was  thrust  in.  The  door  closed,  and  Dantes  ad- 
variced  with  outstretched  hands  until  he  touched  the  wall ; he  then 
sat  down  in  the  corner  until  his  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the 
darkness.  The  jailer  was  right  ; Dantes  wanted  but  little  of  being 
utterly  mad. 

When  the  Emperor  returned,  Noirtier  saved  his  son,  but  his  su- 
perior lost  his  official  head.  When  the  Restoration  again  followed 
Villefort  had  but  to  remind  the  King  that  he  had  traveled  posthaste 
to  tell  him  of  the  plot  he  had  discovered  through  Dantes’  letter 
and  obtained  post  ; he  selected  to  be  proctor  at  another  place. 

He  was  still  at  Marseilles,  its  leading  legal  functionary,  when 
one  morning  his  door  opened,  and  M.  Morrel  was  announced. 

He  came  for  advice  about  the  imprisoment  of  Dantes,  and  the 
magistrate  suggested  a petition.  As  this  was  strongly  in  favor  of 
Vue  mate  as  a Bonapartist,  he  did  not  send  it  off  to  headquarters 
but  retained  it  in  case  the  tables  should  be  turned  again. 

Dantes  remained  a prisoner,  and  heard  not  the  noise  of  the  fall 

Louis  XVlII.’s  throne. 

Twice  during  the  Hundred  Days  had  Morrel  renewed  his  de- 
mand, and  twice  had  Villefort  soothed  him  with  promises.  At 
last  there  was  Waterloo,  and  Morrel  came  no  more  : he  had  done 
all  that  was  in  his  power,  and  any  fresh  attempt  would  only  com- 
promise himself  uselessly. 

Louis  XVIII.  remounted  the  throne,  Villefort  demanded  andob 
tained  office  at  Toulouse,  and  a fortnight  afterwards  married 
Renee. 

Danglars  comprehended  the  full  extent  of  the  wretched  fate 
that  overwhelmed  Dantes  and  like  all  men  of  small  abilities,  he 
termed  this  a decree  of  Providence.  But  when  Napoleon  returned 
to  Paris,  Danglars’  heart  failed  him,  and  he  feared  at  every  in- 
stant to  behold  Dantes  eager  for  vengeance  : he  therefore  informed 
M.  Morrel  of  his  wish  to  quit  the  sea,  and  obtained  a recommen- 
dation from  him  to  a Spanish  merchant,  into  whose  service  he  en- 
tered at  the  end  of  March,  that  is,  ten  or  twelve  days  after  Napo- 
leon’s return.  He  then  left  for  Madrid,  and  was  no  more  heard  of. 

Fernand  understood  nothing  except  that  Dantes  was  absent. 
What  had  become  of  him  he  cared  not  to  inquire.  Only,  during 
the  respite  the  absence  of  his  rival  afforded  him,  he  reflected, 
partly  on  the  means  of  deceiving  Mercedes  as  to  the  cause  of  his 
absence,  partly  on  plans  of  emigration  and  abduction,  as  from  time 
to  time  he  sat  sad  and  motionless  on  the  summit  of  Cape  Pharo,  at 
the  spot  from  whence  Marseilles  and  the  village  des  Catalans  are 
visible,  watching  for  the  apparition  of  a young  and  handsome 
man,  who  was  for  him  also  the  messenger  of  vengeance.  Fernand’s 
mind  was  made  up  : he  would  shoot  Dantes,  and  then  kill  him- 


3° 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


self.  But  Fernand  was  mistaken  ; a man  of  his  disposition  never 
kills  himself,  for  he  constantly  hopes. 

During  this  time  the  empire  made  a last  appeal,  and  every  man 
in  France  capable  of  bearing  arms  rushed  to  obey  the  summons 
of  their  emperor.  Fernand  departed  with  the  rest,  bearing  with 
him  the  terrible  thought  that  perhaps  his  rival  was  behind  him,  and 
would  marry  Mercedes.  Had  Fernand  really  meant  to  kill  himself, 
he  would  have  done  so  when  he  parted  from  Mercedes.  His 
devotion,  and  the  compassion  he  showed  for  her  misfortunes,  pro- 
duced the  effect  they  always  produce  on  noble  minds — Mercedes 
had  always  had  a sincere  regard  for  Fernand,  and  this  was  now 
strengthened  by  gratitude. 

“My  brother,”  said  she,  as  she  placed  his  knapsack  on  his 
shoulders,  “ be  careful  of  yourself,  for  if  you  are  killed,  I shall  be 
alone  in  the  world.”  These  words  infused  a ray  of  hope  into 
Fernand’s  heart.  Should  Dantes  not  return,  Mercedes  might  one 
day  be  his.  Mercedes  was  left  alone  to  gaze  on  this  vast  plain 
that  had  never  seemed  so  barren,  and  the  sea  that  had  never 
seemed  so  vast. 

Caderousse  was,  like  Fernand,  enrolled  in  the  army,  but,  being 
married  and  eight  years  older,  he  was  merely  sent  to  the  frontier. 
Old  Dantes  who  was  only  sustained  by  hope,  lost  all  hope  at  Na- 
poleon’s downfall.  Five  months  after  he  had  been  separated  from 
his  son,  and  almost  at  the  very  hour  at  which  he  was  arrested,  he 
breathed  his  last  in  Mercedes*  arms.  M.  Morrel  paid  the  expenses 
of  his  funeral  and  a few  small  debts  the  poor  old  man  had  con- 
tracted. 

There  was  more  than  benevolence  in  this  action  ; there  was 
courage  ; for  to  assist,  even  on  his  death-bed,  the  father  of  so  dan- 
gerous a Bonapartist  as  Dantes,  was  stigmatized  as  a crime. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ANOTHER  PRISONER. 

A year  after  Louis  XVIII’s  restoration,  a visit  was  made  by  the 
inspector  general  of  prisons.  Dantes  heard  from  the  recesses  of 
his  cell  the  noises  made  by  the  preparations  for  receiving  him. 
He  guessed  something  uncommon  was  passing  among  the  living  ; 
but  he  had  so  long  ceased  to  have  any  intercourse  with  the  world, 
that  he  looked  upon  himself  as  dead. 

The  inspector  visited  the  cells  and  dungeons,  one  after  another. 

At  last,  they  descended  stairs  so  foul,  so  humid,  so  dark,  that  the 
very  sight  effected  the  eye,  the  smell,  and  respiration. 

“Oh  ! ” cried  the  inspector,  " who  can  live  here  ? ” 

“A  most  dangerous  conspirator,  a man  we  are  ordered  to  keep 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


3* 


the  most  strict  watch  over,  as  he  is  daring  and  resolute.  He  at- 
tempted to  kill  the  turnkey  ; the  very  one  who  is  lighting  us.  Is 
it  not  true,  Antoine  ? ” asked  the  govenor. 

“ True  enough  ; he  wanted  to  kill  me  ! ” replied  the  turnkey. 

“ He  must  be  mad,”  said  the  inspector. 

“He  is  worse  than  that, — he  is  a devil!”  returned  the  turn- 
key. 

“ Shall  I complain  of  him  ? ” demanded  the  inspector. 

««  Oh,  no  ; it  is  useless.  Besides  he  is  almost  mad  now,  and  in 
another  year  he  will  be  quite  so.” 

“So  much  the  better  for  him, — he  will  suffer  less,”  said  the 
inspector.  He  was,  as  this  remark  shows,  a man  full  of  philan- 
thropy, and  in  every  way’fit  for  his  office. 

“You  are  right,  sir*  replied  the  governor;  “ and  this  remark 
proves  that  you  have  deeply  considered  the  subject.  Now  we 
have  in  a dungeon  about  twenty  feet  distant,  and  to  which  you 
descend  by  another  stair  an  abbe,  ancient  leader  of  a party  in 
in  Italy,  who  has  been  here  since  1811,  and  in  1813  he  went  mad, 
and  the  change  is  astonishing.  He  used  to  weep,  he  now  laughs  ; 
he  grew  thin,  he  now  grows  fat.  You  had  better  see  him,  for  his 
madness  is  amusing.” 

“I  will  see  them  both,”  returned  the  inspector;  “I  must  con- 
scientiously perform  my  duty.”  This  was  the  inspector’s  first 
visit  : he  wished  to  display  his  authority. 

At  the  sound  of  the  key  turning  in  the  lock,  and  the  creaking 
of  the  hinges,  Dantes,  who  was  crouched  in  a corner  of  the  dun- 
geon raised  his  head.  At  the  sight  of  a stranger,  lighted  by  two 
turnkeys,  accompanied  by  two  soldiers,  and  to  whom  the  govenor 
spoke  bareheaded,  Dantes,  who  guessed  the  truth,  and  that  the 
moment  to  address  himself  to  the  superior  authorities  was  come, 
sprang  forward  with  clasped  hands. 

The  soldiers  presented  their  bayonets,  for  they  thought  he  was 
about  to  attack  the  inspector,  and  the  latter  recoiled  two  or  three 
steps.  Dantes  saw  he  was  represented  as  a dangerous  prisoner. 
Then  infusing  all  the  humility  he  possessed  into  his  eyes  and 
voice,  he  addressed  the  inspector,  and  sought  to  inspire  him  with 
pity. 

The  inspector  listened  attentively  ; then,  turning  to  the  governor, 
observed,  “ He  will  become  religious — he  is  already  more  gentle  ; 
he  is  afraid,  and  retreated  before  the  bayonets — madmen  are  not 
afraid  of  anything  ; I made  some  curious  observation  on  this 
at  Charenton  madhouse.”  Then,  turning  to  the  prisoner,  he 
asked,  “What  do  you  demand  ? ” 

“ What  crime  I have  committed — to  be  tried  ; and  if  I am 
guilty,  may  be  shot ; if  innocent,  I may  be  set  at  liberty.” 

“ Are  you  well  fed  ? ” said  the  inspector. 

“ I believe  so — I know  not,  but  that  matters  little  ; what  matters 
really,  not  only  to  me,  but  to  everyone,  is,  that  an  innocent  maa 


32 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR/STO. 


should  languish  in  prison,  the  victim  of  an  infamous  denuncia- 
tion.” 

“We  shall  see,”  said  the  inspector;  then  turning  to  the  gov- 
ernor. ‘‘  On  my  word,  the  poor  devil  touches  me.  You  must 
show  me  the  proofs  against  him.” 

“ Certainly  ; but  you  will  find  terrible  notes  against  him.” 

" Monsieur,”  continued  Dantes,  " I know  it  is  not  in  your 
power  to  release  me  ; but  you  can  plead  for  me — you  can  have 
me  tried — and  that  is  all  I ask.  Tell  me  at  least  to  hope.” 

“ I cannot  tell  you  that,”  replied  the  inspector;  “ I can  only 
promise  to  examine  into  your  case.  Who  arrested  you  ? ” 

" M.  Villefort.  See  him,  and  hear  what  he  says.” 

" M.  Villefort  is  no  longer  at  Marseilles  ; he  is  now  at  Tou- 
louse.” 

“ I am  no  longer  surprised  at  my  detention ” murmured  Dantes, 
" since  my  only  protector  is  removed,” 

“ Had  M.  de  Villefort  any  cause  of  personal  dislike  to  you?  M 
" None ; on  the  contrary,  he  was  very  kind  to  me.” 

“ I can,  then,  rely  on  the  notes  he  has  left  concerning  you?" 
— “ Entirely.” 

" That  is  well ; wait  patiently,  then.”  Dantes  fell  on  his  knees, 
and  prayed  earnestly.  The  door  closed  ; but  this  time  a fresh 
inmate  was  left  with  Dantes — Hope. 

“ Will  you  see  the  register  at  once,”  asked  the  governor,  "or 
proceed  to  the  other  cell  ? ’ ’ 

" What  is  his  craze  ? ” 

“ He  fancies  he  possesses  an  immense  treasure.  The  .first  year 
he  offered  government  a million  of  francs  for  his  release  ; the 
second,  two  ; the  third,  three ; and  so  on  progressively.  He  is 
now  in  his  fifth  year  of  captivity  ; he  will  ask  to  speak  to  you  in 
priv'ate,  and  offer  you  five  millions.” 

" How  curious  ! — what  is  his  name?  ” "Abbe  Faria.” 

" No.  27,”  said  the  inspector. 

" It  is  here  ; unlock  the  door,  Antoine.”  The  turnkey  obeyed, 
and  the  inspector  gazed  curiously  into  the  cell  of  the  Mad  Priest. 

Jn  the  centre  of  the  cell,  in  a circle  traced  with  a fragment  of 
plaster  detached  from  the  wall,  sat  a man  whose  tattered  garments 
scarcely  covered  him.  He  was  drawing  in  this  circle  geometrical 
lines,  and  seemed  absorbed  in  his  problem. 

He  did  not  move  at  the  sound  of  the  door,  and  continued  his 
problem  until  the  flash  of  the  torches  lighted  up  with  an  unwonted 
glare  the  sombre  walls  of  his  cell  ; then,  raising  his  head,  he  per- 
ceived with  astonishment  the  number  of  persons  in  his  cell.  He 
hastily  seized  the  coverlid  of  his  bed,  and  wrapped  it  round  him. 

" What  do  you  demand  ? ” said  the  inspector, 

" I ! ” replied  the  abbe,  with  an  air  of  surprise — " I demand  noth- 
ing.” 

"You  do  not  understand,”  continued  the  inspector;  "I  am 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  33 

sent  here  by  government  to  visit,  and  hear  the  requests  of  the 
prisoners.” 

“ Oh,  that  is  different,’*  cried  the  abbe  ; 11  and  we  shall  under, 
stand  each  other,  I hope.” 

“There  now,”  whispered  the  governor,  “it  is  just  as  I told 
you.” 

“Sir,”  continued  the  prisoner,  “ I am  the  Abbe  Faria,  born  at 
Rome.  I was  for  twenty  years  Cardinal  Spada’s  secretary  ; I was 
arrested,  why  I know  not,  in  18 11  ; since  then  I have  demanded 
my  liberty  from  the  Italian  and  French  government.” 

“ Why  from  the  French  government?  ” 

“ Because  I was  arrested  at  Piombino ; and  I presume  that, 
like  Milan  and  Florence,  Piombino  has  become  the  capital  of  some 
French  department.” 

“ Ah  ! ” said  the  inspector,  “ you  have  not  the  latest  intelligence 
from  Italy.” 

“ They  date  from  the  day  on  which  I was  arrested,”  returned 
Faria;  “and  as  the  emperor  had  created  the  kingdom  of  Rome 
for  his  infant  son,  I presume  that  he  has  realized  the  dream  of 
Machiavel  and  Caesar  Borgia,  which  was  to  make  Italy  one  vast 
kingdom.” 

“Sir,”  returned  the  inspector,  “Providence  has  changed  this 
gigantic  plan  you  advocate  so  warmly.” 

“It  is  the  only  means  of  rendering  Italy  happy  and  indepen- 
dent.” 

“ Very  possibly  ; only  I am  not  come  to  discuss  politics,  but  to 
inquire  if  you  have  anything  to  ask  or  to  complain  of.” 

“ The  food  is  the  same  as  in  other  prisons, — that  is,  very  bad  ; 
the  lodging  is  very  unwholesome,  but,  on  the  whole,  passable  for 
a dungeon  ; but  it  is  not  that  which  I speak  of,  but  a secret  I have 
to  reveal  of  the  greatest  importance.” 

“ We  are  coming  to  the  point,”  whispered  the  governor. 

“ It  is  for  that  reason  I am  delighted  to  see  you,”  continued  the 
priest,  “although  you  have  disturbed  me  in  a most  important  cal- 
culation, which,  if  it  succeeded,  would  possibly  change  Newton’s 
system.  Could  you  allow  me  a few  words  in  private  ? I would 
speak  to  you  of  a large  sum,  amounting  to  five  millions.” 

“The  very  sum  you  named,”  whispered,  in  his  turn,  the  in- 
spector. 

“However,”  continued  Faria,  perceiving  the  inspector  was 
about  to  depart,  “ it  is  not  absolutely  necessary  we  should  be  alone  ; 
the  governor  can  be  present.” 

“ Unfortunately,”  said  the  governor,  “ I know  beforehand  what 
you  are  about  to  say  ; it  concerns  your  treasures,  does  it  not?  ” 
Faria  fixed  his  eyes  on  him  with  an  expression  that  would  have 
convinced  any  one  else  of  his  sanity. 

04 The  government  does  not  want  your  treasures,”  replied  tn& 

3 


34 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


inspector ; keep  them  until  you  are  liberated.**  The  abba’s 
eyes  glistened  ; he  seized  the  inspector’s  hand. 

“ But  what  if  I am  not  liberated,”  cried  he,  “ and  am  detained 
here  until  my  death  ? Had  not  government  better  profit  by  it  ? I 
will  offer  six  millions,  and  I will  content  myself  with  the  rest.** 

“ On  my  word,”  said  the  inspector,  in  a low  tone,  ••  had  I not 
been  told  beforehand  this  man  was  mad,  I should  believe  what  he 
says.’* 

41 1 am  not  mad  ’ ” replied  Faria,  with  that  acuteness  of  hear- 
ing peculiar  to  prisoners.  “ The  treasure  I speak  of  really  exists ; 
and  I offer  to  sign  a treaty  with  you,  in  which  I promise  to  lead 
you  to  the  spot  you  shall  dig  ; and  if  I deceive  you,  bring  me  here 
again, — I ask  no  more.” 

The  governor  laughed.  " Is  the  spot  far  from  here  ? ’* ••  A 

hundred  leagues.” 

It  is  not  a bad  idea,”  said  the  governor. 

“ If  every  prisoner  took  it  into  his  head  to  travel  a hundred 
leagues,  and  their  guardians  consented  to  accompany  them,  they 
would  have  a capital  chance  of  escaping.” 

** The  scheme  .s  well  known,”  said  the  governor;  “ and  the 
reverend  has  not  even  the  merit  of  its  invention.  I inquired  if 
you  are  well  fed?  ” 

“ Monsieur,  you  run  no  risk,  for,  I will  stay  here  ; so  there  is  no 
chance  of  my  escaping.” 

“ You  do  not  reply  to  my  question,**  replied  the  inspector,  im- 
patiently. 

“ Nor  you  to  mine,’*  cried  the  abbe.  “ You  will  not  accept  my 
gold  ; I will  keep  it  for  myself.  You  refuse  me  my  liberty  ; God 
will  give  it  me.”  And,  casting  away  his  coverlid,  the  priest  re- 
sumed his  place,  and  continued  his  calculations. 

“ What  is  he  doing  there  ? ” said  the  inspector. 

“ Counting  up  his  treasures,”  replied  the  governor. 

Faria  replied  to  this  sarcasm  by  a glance  of  profound  con- 
tempt. 

Thus  finished  the  adventure  of  the  Abbe  Faria.  He  remained 
in  his  cell,  and  this  visit  only  increased  the  belief  of  his  insanity. 

The  inspector  kept  his  word  with  Dantes : he  examined  the 
register,  and  found  the  following  note  concerning  him  : — 

f Violent  Bonapartist  ; took  an  active  part  in 
. XTrT,„0  | the  Return  from  Elba. 

* j The  greatest  watchfulness  and  care  to  be  ex- 
l ercised. 

This  note  was  in  a different  hand  from  the  rest,  which  proved  it 
had  been  added  since  his  confinement.  The  inspector  could  not 
contend  against  this  accusation  ; he  simply  wrote, — “ Nothing  to 
be  done.** 

This  visit  had  infused  new  vigor  into  Dantes  ; he  had,  till  then, 
forgotten  the  date  ; but  now.  ’’*:th  a fragment  of  plaster,  he  wrote 


^HE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


35 


thvi  date,  30th  July,  1816;  and  made  a mark  every  day,  in  order 
not  to  lose  his  reckoning  again.  Days  and  weeks  passed  away, 
then  months, — Dantes  still  waited  ; he  at  first  expected  to  be  freed 
in  a fortnight.  This  fortnight  expired  ; he  reflected  the  inspector 
would  do  nothing  until  his  return  to  Paris  ; and  that  he  would  not 
reach  there  until  his  circuit  was  finished  ; he  therefore  fixed  three 
months  : three  months  passed  away,  then  six  more.  During  these 
ten  months  no  favorable  change  had  taken  place  ; and  Dantes  be- 
gan to  fancy  the  inspector’s  visit  was  but  a dream,  an  illusion  of 
the  brain. 

At  the  expiration  of  a year  the  governor  was  changed;  he  had 
obtained  the  government  of  Ham.  He  took  with  him  several  of 
his  subordinates,  and  amonst  them  Dantes’  jailer.  A fresh  gov-, 
ernor  arrived : it  would  have  been  too  tedious  to  acquire  the 
names  of  the  prisoners,  he  learned  their  numbers  instead.  This 
horrible  place  consisted  of  fifty  chambers  ; their  inhabitants  were 
designated  by  the  number  of  their  chamber ; and  the  unhappy 
young  man  was  no  longer  called  Edmond  Dantes, — he  was  now 
number  34. 

He  commenced  with  pride,  a natural  consequence  of  hope  and 
a consciousness  of  innocence  ; then  he  began  to  doubt  his  own  in- 
nocence, which  justified  in  some  measure  the  governor’s  belief  in 
his  mental  alienation.  Having  exhausted  all  human  resources,  he 
turned  to  God. 

Spite  of  his  earnest  prayers,  Dant&s  remained  a prisoner. 

Then  a gloomy  feeling  took  possession  of  him. 

Rage  succeeded  to  this.  Dantes  uttered  blasphemies  that  made 
his  jailer  recoil  with  horror,  dashed  himself  furiously  against  the 
walls  of  his  prison,  attacked  everything,  and  chiefly  himself,  and 
the  least  thing — a grain  of  sand,  a straw,  or  a breath  of  air  that 
annoyed  him.  Then  the  letter  he  had  seen  that  Villefort  had 
showed  to  him  recurred  to  his  mind,  and  every  line  seemed  visible 
in  fiery  letters  on  the  wall.  He  said  that  it  was  the  vengeance  of 
man,  and  not  of  Heaven,  that  had  thus  plunged  him  into  the 
deepest  misery.  He  devoted  these  unknown  persecutors  to  the ' 
most  horrible  tortures  he  could  imagine,  and  found  them  all  in- 
sufficient, because  after  torture  came  death,  and  after  death,  if  not 
repose,  at  least  that  insensibility  that  resembles  it. 

By  dint  of  constantly  dwelling  on  the  idea  that  repose  was 
death,  and,  in  order  to  punish,  other  tortures  than  death  must  be 
invented,  he  began  to  reflect  on  suicide. 

He  chose  starvation  and  persisted  in  this  course  till  he  had 
barely  strength  enough  to  throw  his  food  out  of  window,  to  resist 
temptation.  He  was  lying  on  the  borderland  of  that  shrouded 
country  known  as  Death  when,  at  nine  o’clock,  he  heard  a noise 
in  the  wall.  It  lasted  nearly  three  hours  ; he  then  heard  a noise 
of  something  falling,  and  all  was  silent. 

hov*rs  »fterwar4.,  h began  nearer  and  mor«  distinct; 


3^ 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


mond  became  already  interested  in  that  labor,  when  the  jailer  em 
tered. 

For  a week  that  he  had  resolved  to  die,  and  for  four  days  that  he 
put  this  resolution  into  execution,  Edmond  had  not  spoken  to  this 
man,  had  not  answered  him  when  he  inquired  what  was  the  mat- 
ter with  him,  and  turned  his  face  to  the  wall  when  he  looked  too 
curiously  at  him  ; but  now  the  jailer  might  hear  this  noise  and  put 
an  end  to  it,  thus  destroying  a ray  of  something  like  hope  that 
soothed  his  last  moments. 

The  jailer  brought  him  his  breakfast.  Dantes  raised  himself  up, 
and  began  to  speak  on  everything  : on  the  bad  quality  of  his  food, 
on  the  coldness  of  his  dungeon,  grumbling  and  complaining,  in 
order  to  have  an  excuse  for  speaking  louder,  and  wearying  the 
patience  of  his  jailer,  who  had  solicited  broth  and  white  bread  for 
his  prisoner,  and  who  had  brought  it. 

Fortunately  he  fancied  Dantes  was  delirious  ; and  placing  his 
food  on  the  rickety  table,  he  withdrew.  Edmond  listened,  and 
the  sound  become  more  and  more  distinct. 

He  turned  his  eyes  towards  the  soup  his  jailer  had  brought  him, 
rose,  staggered  towards  it,  raised  the  vessel  to  his  lips,  and  drank 
off  the  contents  with  a feeling  of  indescribable  pleasure.  He  had 
often  heard  that  shipwrecked  persons  had  died  through  having 
eagerly  devoured  too  much  food  ; Edmond  replaced  on  the  table 
the  bread  he  was  about  to  devour,  and  returned  to  his  couch — he 
did  not  wish  to  die.  He  soon  felt  that  his  ideas  became  again  col- 
lected— he  could  think,  and  strengthen  his  thoughts  by  reasoning. 
Then  he  said  to  himself,  i(  I must  put  this  to  the  test,  but  without 
compromising  anybody.  If  it  is  a workman,  I need  but  knock 
against  the  wall,  and  he  will  cease  to  work,  in  order  to  find  out 
who  is  knocking,  and  why  he  does  so  ; but  as  his  occupation  is 
sanctioned  by  the  governor,  he  will  soon  resume  it.  If,  on  the  con- 
tary,  it  is  a prisoner,  the  noise  I make  will  alarm  him,  he  will 
:ease,  and  not  recommence  until  he  thinks  every  one  is  asleep.’ ’ 

Dantes  rose  again,  but  this  time  his  legs  did  not  tremble,  and 
iis  eyes  were  free  from  mists ; he  advanced  to  a corner  of  his 
dungeon,  detached  a stone,  and  with  it  knocked  against  the  v/all 
where  the  sound  came.  He  struck  thrice.  At  the  first  blow  the 
sound  ceased,  as  if  by  magic. 

Edmond  listened  intently  ; an  hour  passed,  two  hours  passed, 
and  no  sound  was  heard  from  the  wall — all  was  silent  there. 

Full  of  hope,  Dantes  swallowed  a few  mouthfuls  of  bread  and 
water,  and,  thanks  to  the  excellence  of  his  constitution,  found 
himself  well-nigh  recovered. 

The  day  passed  away  in  utter  silence — night  came  without  the 
noise  having  recommenced. 

“ It  is  a prisoner,”  said  Edmond  joyfully.  The  night  passed  in 
perfect  silence.  He  did  not  close  his  eyes. 

In  the  morning  the  jailer  brought  him  fresh  provisions — he  had 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


5? 


already  devoured  those  of  the  previous  day  ; he  ate  these,  listen- 
ing anxiously  for  the  sound,  walking  round  and  round  his  cell, 
Shaking  the  iron  bars  of  the  loophole,  restoring  by  exercise  vigor 
and  agility  to  his  limbs,  and  preparing  himself  thus  for  his  future 
destiny.  At  intervals  he  listened  if  the  noise  had  not  begun  again, 
and  grew  impatient  at  the  prudence  of  the  prisoner,  who  did  not 
guess  he  had  been  disturbed  by  a captive  as  anxious  for  liberty  as 
himself. 

Three  days  passed — seventy-two  long  tedious  hours ! 

At  length  one  evening,  as  the  jailer  was  visiting  him  for  the  last 
time  that  night,  Dantes  fancied  he  heard  an  almost  imperceptibte 
movement  among  the  stones.  Edmond  recoiled  from  the  wall, 
walked  up  and  down  his  cell  to  collect  his  thoughts,  and  replaced 
his  ear  against  the  wall. 

There  could  be  no  doubt  something  was  passing  on  the  other 
side  ; the  prisoner  had  discovered  the  danger,  and  had  substituted 
the  lever  for  the  chisel. 

Encouraged  by  this  discovery,  Dantes  determined  to  assist  the 
indefatigable  laborer.  He  began  by  moving  his  bed,  and  sought 
with  his  eyes  anything  with  which  he  could  pierce  the  wall,  pene- 
trate the  cement,  and  displace  a stone. 

He  saw  nothing,  he  had  no  knife  or  sharp  instrument,  the  grat- 
ing of  his  window  alone  was  of  iron,  and  he  had  too  often  assured 
himself  of  its  solidity.  All  his  furniture  consisted  of  a bed,  a chair, 
a table,  a pail,  and  a jug.  The  bed  had  iron  clamps,  but  they 
were  screwed  to  the  wooa,  and  it  would  have  required  a screw- 
driver to  take  them  off.  The  table  and  chair  had  nothing,  the  pail 
had  had  a handle  removed. 

Dantes  had  but  one  resource,  which  was  to  break  the  jug,  and 
with  one  of  the  sharp  fragments  attack  the  wall.  He  let  the  jug 
fall  on  the  floor,  and  it  broke  in  pieces. 

Dantes  concealed  two  or  three  of  the  sharpest  fragments  in  his 
bed,  leaving  the  rest  on  the  floor.  The  breaking  of  his  jug  was  too 
natural  an  accident  to  excite  suspicion.  Edmond  had  all  the  night 
to  work  in,  but  in  the  darkness  he  could  not  do  much,  and  he  soon 
felt  his  instrument  was  blunted  against  something  hard  ; he  pushed 
back  his  bed,  and  awaited  the  day. 

All  night  he  heard  the  subterranean  workman,  who  continued  to 
mine  his  way.  The  day  came,  the  warden  entered.  Dantes  told 
him  the  jug  had  fallen  from  his  hands  in  drinking,  and  the  jailer 
went  grumblingly  to  fetch  another,  without  giving  himself  the 
trouble  to  remove  the  fragments  of  the  broken  one.  He  returned 
speedily,  recommended  the  prisoner  to  be  more  careful,  and  de- 
parted. 

Edmond  heard  joyfully  the  key  grate  in  the  lock,  he  listened  un- 
til the  sound  of  steps  died  away,  and  then,  hastily  displacing  his 
bed,  saw  by  the  faint  light  that  penetrated  into  his  cell,  that  he  had 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTSTO. 


33 

labored  uselessly  the  previous  evening  in  attacking  the  stone  ift* 
stead  of  removing  the  plaster  that  surrounded  it. 

The  damp  had  rendered  it  friable,  and  Dantes  saw  joyfully  the 
plaster  detach  itself ; in  small  morsels,  it  is  true  ; but  at  the  end  of 
half  an  hour  he  had  scraped  off  a handful : a mathematician  might 
have  calculated  that  in  two  years,  supposing  that  the  rock  was  not 
encountered,  a passage,  twenty  feet  long  and  two  feet  broad,  might 
be  formed. 

The  prisoner  reproached  himself  with  not  having  thns  employed 
the  hours  he  had  passed  in  prayers  and  despair.  In  six  years  (the 
space  he  had  been  confined)  what  might  he  not  have  accomplished  ? 

In  three  days  he  had  succeeded,  with  the  utmost  precaution,  in 
removing  the  cement,  and  exposing  the  stone  ; the  wall  was  formed 
of  rough  stones,  to  give  solidity  to  which  were  embedded,  at  in- 
tervals, blocks  of  hewn  stone.  It  was  one  of  these  he  had  un- 
covered, and  which  he  must  remove  from  its  sockets. 

Dantes  strove  to  do  so  with  his  nails,  but  they  were  too  weak. 
The  fragments  of  the  jug  broke,  and  after  an  hour  of  useless  toil, 
he  paused. 

Was  he  to  be  thus  stopped  at  the  beginning,  and  was  he  to  wait 
inactive  until  his  fellow-workman  had  completed  his  toils?  Sud- 
denly an  idea  occurred  to  him, — he  smiled,  and  the  perspiration 
dried  on  his  forehead. 

The  turnkey  always  brought  Dantes’  soup  in  an  iron  saucepan  : 
this  saucepan  contained  the  soup  of  a second  prisoner ; for  Dantes 
had  remarked  that  it  was  either  quite  full,  or  half  empty,  accord- 
ing as  the  turnkey  gave  it  to  himself  or  his  companion  first. 

The  handle  of  this  saucepan  was  of  iron ; Dantes  would  have 
given  ten  years  of  his  life  in  exchange  for  it. 

The  jailer  poured  the  contents  of  this  saucepan  into  Danles* 
plate,  who  after  eating  his  soup  with  a wooden  spoon,  washed  the 
plate,  which  thus  served  for  every  day.  In  the  evening  Dantes 
placed  his  plate  on  the  ground  near  the  door  ; the  jailer  as  he 
entered,  stepped  on  it  and  broke  it. 

This  time  he  could  not  blame  Dantes.  He  was  wrong  to  leave 
it  there,  but  the  man  was  wrong  not  to  have  looked  before  him. 

The  warden,  therefore,  contented  himself  with  grumbling.  Then 
he  looked  about  him  for  something  to  pour  the  soup  into  ; Dantes' 
whole  furniture  consisted  of  one  plate — there  was  no  alternative. 

" Leave  the  saucepan,”  said  Dantes  ; “ you  can  take  it  away 
when  you  bring  me  my  breakfast.”  This  advice  was  to  the  man’s 
taste,  as  it  spared  him  the  necessity  of  ascending,  descending,  and 
ascending  again.  He  left  the  saucepan. 

Dantes  was  beside  himself  with  joy.  He  rapidly  devoured  his 
food,  and  after  waiting  an  hour,  lest  the  jailer  should  change  his 
mind  and  return,  he  removed  his  bed,  took  the  handle  of  the  sauce- 
pan, inserted  the  point  between  the  hewn  stone  and  rough  stones 

the  wall,  and  employed  it  a lever.  A slight  oscillation  showed 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


39 


Dantes  all  went  well.  At  the  end  of  an  hour  the  stone  was  ex- 
tricated from  the  wall,  leaving  a cavity  of  a foot  and  a half  in 
diameter. 

Dantes  carefully  collected  the  plaster,  carried  it  into  the  corners 
of  his  cell.,  and  covered  it  with  earth.  Then,  wishing  to  make  the 
best  use  oi  this  night,  in  which  chance,  or  rather  his  own  stratagem, 
had  placed  so  precious  an  instrument  in  his  hands,  he  continued  to 
work  without  ceasing.  At  the  dawn  of  day  he  replaced  the  stone, 
pushed  his  bed  against  the  wall,  and  lay  down.  The  breakfast 
consisted  of  a piece  of  bread:  the  jailer  entered  and  placed  the 
bread  on  the  table. 

“ Well,  you  do  not  bring  me  another  plate,* * said  Dantes. 

' •'  No,”  replied  the  turnkey,  “you  destroy  everything.  First  you 

break  your  jug,  then  you  make  me  break  your  plate  ; if  all  the 
prisoners  followed  your  example,  the  government  would  be  ruined. 
I shall  leave  you  the  saucepan,  and  pour  your  soup  into  that.  So 
far  the  future  I hope  you  will  not  be  so  destructive  to  your  furni- 
ture.” 

Dantes  raised  his  eyes  to  heaven,  clasped  his  hands  beneath  the 
coverlid,  and  prayed.  He  felt  more  gratitude  for  the  possession  of 
this  piece  of  iron  than  he  had  ever  felt  for  anything.  He  had, 
however,  remarked  that  the  prisoner  on  the  other  side  had  ceased 
to  labor  ; no  matter,  this  was  a greater  reason  for  proceeding — if 
his  neighbor  would  not  come  to  him,  he  would  go  to  him.  All  day 
he  toiled  on  untiringly,  and  by  the  evening  he  had  succeeded  in 
extracting  ten  handfuls  of  plaster  and  fragments  of  stone.  When 
the  hour  for  his  jailer’s  visit  arrived,  Dantes  straightened  the 
handle  of  the  saucepan  as  well  as  he  could,  and  placed  it  in  its  ac- 
customed place.  The  man  poured  his  ration  of  soup  into  it,  to- 
gether with  the  fish,  for  thrice  a week  the  prisoners  were  made  to 
abstain  from  meat : this  would  have  been  a method  of  reckoning 
time,  had  not  Dantes  long  ceased  to' do  so.  Having  poured  out 
the  soup,  the  warden  retired.  Dantes  wished  to  ascertain  whether 
his  neighbor  had  really  ceased  to  work.  He  listened — all  was 
silent,  as  it  had  been  for  the  last  three  days.  Dantes  sighed  : it 
was  evident  that  his  neighbor  distrusted  him.  However,  he  toiled 
on  all  the  night  without  being  discouraged  ; but  after  two  or  three 
hours  he  encountered  an  obstacle.  The  iron  made  no  impression, 
but  met  with  a smooth  surface , Dantes  touched  it,  and  found  it 
was  a beam.  This  beam  crossed,  or  rather  blocked  up,  the  hole 
‘Dantes  had  made  ; it  was  necessary,  therefore,  to  dig  above  or 
under  it.  The  unhappy  youug  man  had  not  thought  of  this.  “ Oh, 
my  God!”  murmured  he,  “I  have  so  earnestly  prayed  to  you, 
that  I hoped  my  prayers  had  been  heard.  After  having  deprived 
tne  of  my  liberty,  after  having  deprived  me  of  death,  after  having 
recalled  me  to  existence,  my  God  ! have  pity  on  me,  and  do  not 
(et  me  die  in  despair,” 

“ Who  talks  of  God  ana  despair  at  the  same  time  j said  a voice 


40 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


that  seemed  to  come  from  beneath  the  earth,  and, deadened  by  the 
distance,  sounded  hollow  and  sepulchral  in  the  young  man’s  ears. 
Edmond’s  hair  stood  on  end,  and  he  rose  on  his  knees. 

“Ah!”  said  he,  “I  hear  a human  voice.”  Edmond  had  not 
heard  any  one  speak  save  his  jailer  for  four  or  five  years  ; and  a 
jailer  is  a man  to  a prisoner — he  is  a living  door  added  to  his  door 
of  oak,  a barrier  of  flesh  and  blood  added  to  his  barriers  of  iron. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  CRAZY  PRIEST. 

“In  the  name  of  heaven,”  cried  Dantes,  “ speak  again,  though 
the  sound  of  your  voice  terrifies  me.” 

“ Who  are  you?  ” said  the  voice. 

“An  unhappy  prisoner,”  replied  Dantes,  who  made  no  hesita- 
tion in  answering.  “Edmond  Dantes,  a French  seaman.” 

“How  long  have  you  been  here?” “Since  the  28th  of 

February,  1815.” 

“ Your  crime  ? ” “ I am  innocent.” 

“ But  of  what  are  you  accused  ? ” 

“ Of  having  conspired  to  aid  the  emperor’s  return.” 

“ How,  for  the  emperor’s  return? — is  the  emperor  no  longer  on 
the  throne  ? ’ ’ 

“ He  abdicated  at  Fontainebleau  in  1814,  and  was  sent  to  ths 
island  of  Elba.  But  how  long  have  you  been  here  that  you  arc 
ignorant  of  all  thrs  ? ’ ’ 

“ Since  1811.” 

Dantes  shuddered  : this  man  had  been  four  years  longer  than 
himself  in  prison. 

" Do  not  dig  any  more,”  said  the  voice  ; “ only  tell  me  how  high 

up  is  your  excavation?” “On  a level  with  the  floor,  behind 

my  bed.” 

“What  does  your  chamber  open  on?” “A  corridor  and 

that  on  a yard.” 

“ Alas!  ” murmured  the  voice. 

“ Oh,  what  is  the  matter?  ” cried  Dantes. 

“I  am  deceived,  and  the  imperfection  of  my  plans  has  ruined 
all.  An  error  of  a line  in  the  plan  has  been  equivalent  to  fifteen 
feet  in  reality,  and  I took  the  wall  you  are  mining  for  the  wall  of 
the  fortress.” 

“But  then  you  were  close  to  the  sea?” “That  is  what  I 

hoped.  I should  have  thrown  myself  into  the  sea,  gained  one  of 
the  islands  near  here — Daume  or  Tiboulen — and  then  I was  safe.” 

“Could  you  have  swum  so  far?” “Heaven  would  have 

p^n  me  strength  ; but  now  all  is  lost.” 


THE  COUNT  OF  MO^TE  CRTS  TO.  41 

All ? ^ ‘‘Yes;  stop  up  your  excavation  carefully;  do  not 

work  any  more,  and  wait  until  you  hear  from  me.” 

“Tell  me,  at  least,  who  you  are  ? ” “ I am — I am  No.  27. ,r 

“You  mistrust  me,  then,”  said  Dantes.  Edmond  fancied  he 
heard  a bitter  laugh  proceed  from  the  unknown. 

“ Oh,  I am  a Christian, 11  cried  Dantes,  guessing  instinctively 
that  this  man  meant  to  abandon  him.  “ I swear  to  you  by  Him 
who  died  for  us  that  nought  shall  induce  me  to  breathe  one  syl- 
lable to  my  jailer  ; but  I conjure  you  do  not  abandon  me.  If  you 
do,  I swear  to  you  that  I will  dash  my  brains  out  against  the  wall, 
and  you  will  have  my  death  to  reproach  yourself  with.” 

“ How  old  are  you  ? Your  voice  is  of  a young  man’s.” 

“ I do  not  know  my  age,  for  I have  not  counted  the  years  I have 
been  here.  All  I do  know  is,  that  I was  just  nineteen  when  I was 
arrested,  the  28th  of  February,  1815.” 

“ Not  quite  twenty-six ! ” murmured  the  voice ; “ at  that  age  he 
cannot  be  a traitor.” 

“Oh!  no,  no  ! ” cried  Dantes.  “ I swear  to  you  again,  rather 
than  betray  you  they  shall  hew  me  to  pieces ! ” 

“ You  have  done  well  to  speak  to  me,  and  entreat  me,  for  I was 
about  to  form  another  plan,  and  leave  you  ; but  your  age  reas- 
sures me.  I will  not  forget  you.  Expect  me,  I will  give  you  the 
signal.” 

“ But  you  will  not  leave  me  ; you  will  come  to  me,  or  you  will 
let  me  come  to  you.  We  will  escape,  and  if  we  cannot  escape  we 
will  talk ; you  of  those  whom  you  love,  and  I of  those  whom  I 
love.  You  must  love  somebody  ? ” 

**  No,  I am  alone  in  the  world.” 

“ Then  you  will  love  me.  If  you  are  young,  I will  be  your 
comrade  ; if  you  are  old,  I will  be  your  son.  I have  a father  who 
is  seventy  if  he  yet  lives  ; I only  love  him  and  a girl  called  Mer- 
cedes. My  father  has  not  yet  forgotten  me,  I am  sure  ; but  God 
alone  knows  if  she  loves  me  still : I shall  love  you  as  I loved  my 
father.” 

“ It  is  well,”  returned  the  voice  ; “ to-morrow.” 

These  few  words  were  uttered  with  an  accent  that  left  no  doubt 
of  his  sincerity  ; Dantes  rose,  dispersed  the  fragments  with  the 
same  precaution  as  before,  and  pushed  back  his  bed  against  the 
wall.  He  then  gave  himself  up  to  his  happiness  ; he  would  no 
longer  be  alone.  He  was,  perhaps,  about  to  regain  his  liberty  ; at 
the  worst,  he  would  have  a companion  ; and  captivity  shared  is 
but  half  captivity. 

All  day  Dantes  walked  up  and  down  his  cell. 

The  jailer  came  in  the  evening  ; Dantes  was  on  his  bed.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  thus  he  better  guarded  the  unfinished  opening. 
Doubtless  there  was  a strange  expression  in  his  eyes,  for  the  man 
said,  “ Come,  are  you  going  mad  again  ? ” 

Dantes  did  not  answer  ; he  feared  that  the  emotion  in  his  voice 


42 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


would  betray  him.  The  jailer  retired,  shaking  his  head.  The 
night  came  ; Dantes  hoped  that  his  neighbor  would  profit  by  the 
silence  to  address  him,  but  he  was  mistaken.  The  next  morning, 
however,  just  as  he  removed  his  bed  from  the  wall,  he  heard  three 
knocks  ; he  threw  himself  on  his  knees. 

“ Is  it  you  ? ” said  he,  “I  am  here.” 

“ Is  your  jailer  gone  ? ’ ’ 

“ Yes,”  said  Dantes  ; “ he  will  not  return  until  the  evening  ; so 
that  we  have  twelve  hours  before  us.” 

11 1 can  work,  then,”  said  the  voice. 

“ Oh  yes,  yes,  without  delay,  I entreat  you.” 

In  an  instant  the  portion  of  the  floor  on  which  Dant&s  (half 
buried  in  the  opening)  was  leaning  his  hands,  gave  way  ; he  cast 
himself  back,  whilst  a mass  of  stones  and  earth  disappeared  in  a 
hole  that  opened  beneath  the  aperture  he  himself  had  formed. 
Then  from  the  bottom  of  this  passage,  the  depth  of  which  it  was 
impossible  to  measure,  he  saw  appear,  first  the  head,  then  the 
shoulders,  and  lastly  the  body  of  a man,  who  sprang  lightly  into 
his  cell. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A LEARNED  ITALIAN. 

Rushing  towards  the  friend  so  long  and  ardently  desired, 
Dantes  almost  carried  him  towards  the  window,  in  order  to  obtain 
a better  view  of  his  features  by  the  aid  of  the  imperfect  light  that 
struggled  through  the  grating  of  the  prison. 

He  was  a man  of  small  stature,  with  hair  blanched  rather  by 
suffering  and  sorrow  than  years.  A deep-set,  penetrating  eye,  al- 
most buried  beneath  the  thick  grey  eyebrow,  and  a long  (and  still 
black)  beard  reaching  down  to  his  breast. 

The  stranger  might  have  numbered  sixty,  or  sixty-five  years ; 
but  briskness  and  vigor  in  his  movements  made  it  probable  that  he 
was  aged  more  from  captivity  than  the  course  of  time.  He  re- 
ceived the  enthusiastic  greeting  of  his  young  acquaintance  with 
evident  pleasure,  as  though  his  chilled  affections  seemed  rekindled 
and  invigorated  by  his  contact  with  one  so  warm  and  ardent.  He 
lhanked  him  with  grateful  cordiality  for  his  kindly  welcome,  al- 
though he  must  at  that  moment  have  been  suffering  bitterly  to  find 
fcnother  dungeon  where  he  had  fondly  reckoned  on  discovering  a 
Cleans  of  regaining  his  liberty. 

" Let  us  first  see,”  said  he,  " whether  it  is  possible  to  remove 
Jhe  traces  of  my  entrance  here — our  future  comforts  depend  upon 
Our  keepers  being  entirely  ignorant  of  it.”  Advancing  to  the 
opening,  he  stooped  and  raised  the  stone  as  easily  as  though  it  had 
not  weighed  an  ounce  ; then,  fitting  it  into  its  place,  he  said  « 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO.  43 

••  You  removed  this  stone  very  carelessly  ; but  I suppose  you 
nad  no  tools  to  aid  you.” 

“Why,”  exclaimed  Dantes,  with  astonishment,  “ do  you  po&* 
sess  any  ? ” 

“ I made  myself  some  ; and  with  the  exception  of  a file,  I have 
all  that  are  necessary-^a  chisel,  pincers,  and  lever.” 

“ Oh,  how  I should  like  to  see  these  products  of  your  industry 
and  patience.” 

“Well,  in  the  first  place,  here  is  my  chisel.”  So  saying,  he 
displayed  a sharp  strong  blade,  with  a handle  made  of  beechwood. 

“And  with  what  did  you  contrive  to  make  that?”  inquired 
Dantes.  f 

“ With  one  of  the  clamps  of  my  bedstead  ; and  this  very  tool 
has  sufficed  me  to  hollow  out  the  road  by  which  I came  hither,  a 
distance  of  at  least  fifty  feet.  My  labor  is  all  in  vain,  for  I find 
that  the  corridor  looks  into  a courtyard  filled  with  soldiers.” 

“That’s  true,”  said  Dantes;  “but  the  corridor  you  speak  of 
only  bounds  one  side  of  my  cell  ; there  are  three  others — do  you 
know  anything  of  their  situation?  ” 

“ This  one  is  built  against  the  solid  rock,  and  it  would  take  ten 
experienced  miners,  duly  furnished  with  the  requisite  tools,  as 
many  years  to  perforate  it.  This  adjoins  the  lower  part  of  the 
governor’s  apartments,  and  were  we  to  work  our  way  through,  we 
should  only  get  into  some  lock-up  cellars,  where  we  must  neces- 
sarily be  recaptured.  The  fourth  and  last  side  of  your  cell  looks 
out — looks  out — stop  a minute,  now  where  does  it  open  to  ? ” 

The  side  which  thus  excited  curiosity  was  the  one  in  which  was 
fixed  the  loophole  by  which  the  light  was  admitted  into  the  cham- 
ber. This  loophole,  which  gradually  diminished  as  it  approached 
the  outside,  until  only  an  opening  through  which  a child  could  not 
have  passed,  was,  for  better  security,  furnished  with  three  iron 
bars,  so  as  to  quiet  all  apprehensions  even  in  the  mind  of  the  most 
suspicious  jailer  as  to  the  possibility  of  a prisoner’s  escape.  As 
the  stranger  finished  his  self-put  question,  he  dragged  the  table 
beneath  the  window. 

“Climb  up,”  said  he  to  Dantes.  The  young  man  obeyed, 
mounted  on  the  table,  and,  divining  the  intentions  of  his  compan- 
ion, placed  his  back  securely  against  the  wall  and  held  out  both 
hands.  The  stranger,  whom  as  yet  Dantes  knew  only  by  his  as- 
sumed title  of  the  number  of  his  cell,  sprang  up  with  an  agility  by 
no  means  to  be  expected  in  a person  of  his  years,  and,  light  and 
steady  as  the  bound  of  a cat  or  a lizard,  climbed  from  the  table  to 
the  outstretched  hands  of  Dantes,  and  from  them  to  his  shoulders ; 
then,  almost  doubling  himself  in  two,  for  the  ceiling  of  the 
dungeon  prevented  his  holding  himself  erect,  he  managed  to  slip 
his  head  through  the  top  bar  of  the  window,  so  as  to  be  able  t* 
command  a perfect  view  from  top  to  bottom. 

An  instant  afterwards  he  hastily  drew  back  his  head,  saying,  M I 


44 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


thought  so!  ” and  sliding  from  the  shoulders  of  Dantes  as  dex- 
terously as  he  had  ascended,  he  nimbly  leapt  from  the  table  to 
the  ground. 

“ This  side  of  your  chamber  looks  out  upon  a kind  of  open 
gallery,  where  patrols  are  continually  passing,  and  sentries  keep 
watch  day  and  night.  I saw  the  soldier’s  shako  and  the  top  of 
his  musket  ; that  made  me  draw  in  my  head  so  quickly  ; for  I was 
fearful  he  might  also  see  me.  You  perceive  the  utter  impossibil- 
ity of  escaping  through  your  dungeon  ? the  will  of  God  be  done  ! ” 
and  as  the  old  man  slowly  pronounced  those  words,  an  air  of  pro... 
found  resignation  spread  itself  over  his  care-worn  countenance. 
Dantes  gazed  on  the  individual  who  could  thus  philosophically 
resign  hopes  so  long  and  ardently  nourished  with  an  astonishment 
mingled  with  admiration. 

“ Tell  me,  I entreat  of  you,  who  and  what  you  are  ? ” said  he 
at  length  ; “ never  have  I met  with  so  remarkable  a person  as 
yourself. 

The  stranger  smiled  a melancholy  smile.  “ Then  listen,”  said 
he.  “I  am  the  Abbe  F^ria,  and  have  been  imprisoned  in  this 
castle  since  the  year  1811  ; previously  to  which  I had  been  con- 
fined for  three  years  in  the  fortress  of  Fenestrelle.  In  the  year 
18 1 1 I was  transferred  to  Piedmont  in  France.  It  was  at  this 
period  I learned  that  the  destiny  which  seemed  subservient  to 
every  wish  formed  by  Napoleon,  had  bestowed  on  him  a son, 
named  king  of  Rome  even  in  his  cradle.  I was  very  far  then 
from  expecting  the  change  you  have  just  informed  me  of ; namely, 
that  four  years  afterwards,  this  colossus  of  power  would  be  over- 
thrown. Then  who  reigns  in  France  at  this  moment — Napoleon 
II.?” 

•‘No,  Louis  XVIII.!” 

“The  brother  of  Louis  XVI.!  How  inscrutable  are  the  way* 
of  Providence — for  what  great  and  mysterious  purpose  has  it 
pleased  Heaven  to  abase  the  man  once  so  elevated,  and  raise  up 
the  individual  so  beaten  down  and  depressed  ? ” 

Dantes’  whole  attention  was  riveted  on  a man  who  could  thus 
forget  his  own  misfortunes  while  occupying  himself  with  the. 
destinies  of  others. 

“ But  so  it  was,”  continued  he,  “ in  England.  After  Charles  I. 
came  Cromwell ; to  Cromwell  succeeded  Charles  II.,  and  then 
James  II. , who  was  succeeded  by  some  son-in-law  or  relation.  Ah, 
my  friend  ! ” said  the  abbe,  turning  towards  Dantes,  and  survey- 
ing him  with  the  kindling  gaze  of  a prophet,  “ these  are  the 
changes  and  vicissitudes  that  give  liberty  to  a nation.  Mark  what 
I say  ! You  are  young,  and  may  see  my  words  come  to  pass,  that 
such  will  be  the  case  with  France — you  will  see  it,  I say.” 

“ Probably,  if  ever  I get  out  of  prison  ! ” 

“True,”  replied  Faria,  “we  are  prisoners;  but  I forget  this 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CEISTO. 


45 


sometimes,  and  there  are  even  moments  when  my  mental  vision 
transports  me  beyond  these  walls,  and  I fancy  myself  at  liberty/’ 
i 4 But  wherefore  are  you  here?  ” 

“ Because  in  1807  I meditated  the  very  scheme  Napoleon 
wished  to  realize  in  1811.  Italy  seems  fated  to  be  unlucky,” 
The  old  man  uttered  these  last  words  in  a tone  of  deep  dejection, 
and  his  head  fell  listlessly  on  his  breast. 

To  Dantes  all  this  was  perfectly  incomprehensible. 

41  Pray  excuse  my  question,”  said  he,  beginning  to  partake  of 
the  jailer’s  opinion  touching  the  state  of  the  priest’s  brain,  44  bu~ 
are  you  not  the  priest  who  is  considered  throughout  the  castle — to 
— be — queer?” 

44  Mad,  you  mean,  don’t  you  ? ” 

44 1 did  not  like  to  say  so,”  answered  Dantes  smiling. 

44  Well,  then,”  resumed  Faria,  with  a bitter  smile,  #,let  me 
answer  your  question  in  full,  by  acknowledging  that  I am  the  poor 
mad  prisoner  for  many  years  permitted  to  amuse  the  different 
visitants  to  the  prison  with  what  is  said  to  be  my  insanity  ; and,  in 
all  probability,  I should  be  promoted  to  the  honr*r  of  making  sport 
for  the  children,  if  such  innocent  beings  could  be  found  in  an 
abode  devoted  like  this  to  suffering  and  despair.” 

Dantes  remained  for  a short  time  mute  and  motionless  ; at 
length  he  said, — 44 Then  you  abandon  all  hope  of  flight?  ” 

44 1 perceive  its  utter  impossibility  ; and  I consider  it  impious  to 
attempt  that  which  the  Almighty  evidently  does  not  approve.” 
Dantes  held  down  his  head,  that  his  companion  might  not  per- 
ceive how  little  of  real  regret  at  the  failure  of  the  scheme  was 
expressed  on  his  countenance  ; but  in  truth,  the  young  man  could 
entertain  no  other  feeling  than  delight  at  finding  his  prison  would 
be  no  longer  solitary  or  uncheered  by  human  participation. 

The  abbe  sunk  upon  Edmond’s  bed,  while  Edmond  himself 
remained  standing,  lost  in  a train  of  deep  meditation. 

After  some  time,  the  young  man  suddenly  exclaimed,  44 1 have 
found  what  you  were  in  search  of!  I will  tell  you  what  we  must 
do.  We  must  pierce  through  the  corridor  by  forming  a side  open- 
ing about  the  middle,  as  it  were  the  top  part  of  a cross.  This  time 
you  will  lay  your  plans  more  accurately  ; we  shall  get  out  into  the 
gallery  you  have  described  ; kill  the  sentinel  who  guards  it,  and 
make  our  escape.  All  we  require  to  insure  success  is  courage,  and 
that  you  possess,  and  strength,  which  I am  not  deficient  in  ; as  for 
patience,  you  have  abundantly  proved  yours — you  shall  now  see 
me  prove  mine.” 

“One  instant,  my  dear  friend,”  replied  the  abbe;  “I  have 
thought  it  no  sin  to  bore  through  a wall,  or  destroy  a staircase ; 
but  I cannot  so  easily  persuade  myself  to  pierce  a heart  or  take 
away  a life.”  A slight  start  of  surprise  escaped  Dantes. 

44  Is  it  possible,”  said  he,  44  that  where  your  liberty  is  at  stake 
you  can  allow  any  such  scruple  to  deter  you  from  obtaining  it?*1 


46 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


“Tell  me,”  replied  Faria,  “what  has  hindered  you  from 
knocking  down  your  jailer  with  a piece  of  wood  torn  from  youf 
bedstead,  dressing  yourself  in  his  clothes,  and  endeavoring  to 
escape?” 

“ Simply  that  I never  thought  of  such  a scheme,”  answered 
Dantes. 

“ Because,”  said  the  old  man,  “ the  natural  repugnance  to  the 
commission  of  such  a crime  prevented  its  bare  idea  from  occur- 
ring to  you  ; and  so  it  ever  is  with  all  simple  and  allowable 
things.  Our  natural  instincts  keep  us  from  deviating  from  the 
strict  line  of  duty.” 

Dantes  remained  confused  and  silent  by  this  explanation  of 
the  thoughts  which  had  uneonsciously  been  working  in  his  mind, 
or  rather  soul ; for  there  are  two  distinct  sorts  of  ideas,  those 
that  proceed  from  the  head  and  those  from  the  heart. 

“Since  my  imprisonment,”  said  Faria,  “I  have  thought  over 
all  the  most  celebrated  cases  of  escape  recorded.  Among  the 
many  that  have  failed  in  obtaining  the  ultimate  release  of  the 
prisoner,  I consider  there  has  been  a precipitation — a haste  wholly 
incompatible  with  such  undertakings.  I have  come  to  the  con- 
clusion, that  chance  frequently  affords  opportunities  we  should 
never  ourselves  have  thought  of.  Let  us,  therefore,  wait  patiently 
for  some  favorable  moment ; rely  upon  it,  you  will  not  find  me 
more  backward  than  yourself  in  seizing  it.” 

“Ah!  ” said  Dantes,  “you  might  well  endure  the  tedious  de- 
dious  delay  ; you  were  constantly  employed  in  the  task  you  set 
yourself,  and  when  weary  with  toil,  you  had  your  hopes  to  re- 
fresh and  encourage  you.” 

“I  assure  you,”  replied  the  old  man,  “I  did  not  turn  to  that 
source  for  recreation  or  support.” 

“ What  did  you  do  then  ? ” “ I wrote  or  studied.” 

“Were  you  then  permitted  the  use  of  pens,  ink,  and  paper?  ” 

“ Oh,  no  ! ” answered  the  abbe  ; “ I had  none  but  what  I made 
for  myself.” 

Dantes  gazed  with  kindling  eyes  and  rapidly  increasing  ad- 
miration on  the  wonderful  being  whose  hand  seemed  a magi- 
cian’s wand  ; some  doubt,  however,  still  lingered  in  his  mind, 
which  was  quickly  perceived  by  the  penetrating  eye. 

“When  you  pay  me  a visit  in  my  cell,  my  young  friend,” 
said  he,  “ I will  show  you  an  entire  work,  the  fruits  of  the  thoughts 
and  reflections  of  my  whole  life.  The  work  I speak  of  is  called 
4 On  the  Practicability  of  forming  Italy  into  one  General  Mon- 
archy/ and  will  make  one  large  quarto  volume.” 

“ And  on  what  have  you  written  all  this? ” 

“On  two  of  my  shirts.  I invented  a preparation  that  make* 
linen  as  smooth  and  as  easy  to  write  on  as  parchment.” 

“ But  for  sueh  a work  you  must  have  needed  books — had 
you  any  l ", 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


47 


•*  I possessed  nearly  5,000  volumes  in  my  library  at  Rome; 
but  after  reading  them  over  many  times,  I found  out  that  with 
150  well-chosen  books  a man  possesses  a complete  analysis  of  all 
human  knowledge,  or  at  least  all  that  is  either  useful  or  desir- 
able to  be  acquainted  with.  I devoted  three  years  of  my  life  to 
reading  and  studying  these  150  volumes,  till  I knew  them  nearly 
by  heart ; so  that  since  I have  been  in  prison,  a very  slight  effort 
of  memory  has  enabled  me  to  recall  their  contents  as  readily  as 
though  the  pages  were  open  before  me.” 

“You  are,  doubtless,  acquainted  with  a variety  of  languages,  so 
as  to  have  been  able  to  read  all  these  ? ” 

“Yes,  I speak  five  of  the  modern  tongues — , German,  French, 
Italian,  English,  and  Spanish ; by  the  aid  of  ancient  Greek  I 
learned  modern  Greek — I don’t  speak  it  so  well  as  I could  wish, 
but  I am  still  trying  to  improve  myself.” 

“Improve  yourself!”  repeated  Dantes;  “why,  how  can  you 
manage  to  do  so  ? ” 

“ Why,  I made  a vocabulary  of  the  words  I knew ; turned,  re- 
turned, and  arranged  them,  so  as  to  enable  me  to  express  my 
thoughts  through  their  medium.  I know  nearly  one  thousand 
words,  which  is  all  that  is  absolutely  necessary,  although  I believe 
there  are  nearly  one  hundred  thousand  in  the  dictionaries.  I 
cannot  hope  to  be  very  fluent,  but  I certainly  should  have  no 
difficulty  in  explaining  my  wants  and  wishes ; and  that  would  be 
quite  as  much  as  I should  ever  require.” 

Stronger  grew  the  wonder  of  Dantes,  who  almost  fancied  he 
had  to  do  with  one  gifted  with  supernatural  powers  ; still  hop- 
ing to  find  some  imperfection  which  might  bring  him  down  to  a 
level  with  human  beings,  he  added,  “Then  if  you  were  not 
furnished  with  pens,  how  did  you  manage  to  write  the  work  you 
speak  of?  ” 

“ I made  myself  some  excellent  ones,  which  would  be  uni- 
versally preferred  to  all  others  if  once  known.  You  are  aware 
what  huge  whitings  are  served  to  us  on  fast  days.  Well,  I se- 
lected the  cartilages  of  the  heads,  and  you  can  scarcely  imagine 
the  delight  with  which  I welcomed  the  arrival  of  each  day,  affording 
me  the  means  of  increasing  my  stock  of  pens  ; for  I will  freely 
confess  that  my  historical  labors  have  been  my  greatest  solace 
and  relief.  While  retracing  the  past,  I forget  the  present  ; and 
while  following  the  free  and  independent  course  of  historical 
record,  I cease  to  remember  that  I am  myself  immured  within 
the  gloomy  walls  of  a dungeon.” 

“But  the  ink  requisite  for  copying  down  your  ideas,”  said 
Dantes,  “ how  have  you  procured  that?” 

“ I will  tell  you,”  replied  Faria.  “ There  was  formerly  a fire- 
place in  my  dungeon,  but  closed  up  long  ere  I became  an  occu- 
pant of  this  prison.  Still,  it  must  have  been  many  yeare  in  use, 
for  it  was  thickly  covered  with  a coating  of  soot : this  soot  I ai s- 


48 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


solved  in  a portion  of  the  wine  brought  to  me  every  Sunday,  and 
I assure  you  a better  ink  cannot  be  desired.  For  very  important 
notes,  for  which  closer  attention  is  required,  I have  pricked  one  of 
y fingers,  and  written  the  facts  claiming  notice  in  blood.” 

41  And  when,”  asked  Dantes,  44  will  you  show  me  all  this?  ” 

44  Whenever  you  please,”  replied  the  abbe. 

44  Oh,  then  let  it  be  directly  ! ” exclaimed  the  young  man. 

44  Follow  me,  then/’  said  the  priest,  as  he  re-entered  the  sub- 
terraneous passage,  in  which  he  soon  disappeared,  followed  by 
Dantes. 

After  having  passed  with  tolerable  ease  through  the  subterran- 
ean passage,  which,  however,  did  not  admit  of  their  holding  them- 
selves erect,  the  two  friends  reached  the  further  end  of  the  corri- 
dor, into  which  the  cell  of  the  abbe  opened  ; from  that  point  the 
opening  became  much  narrower,  barely  permitting  an  individual 
to  creep  through  on  his  hands  and  knees.  The  floor  of  the  cell 
was  paved,  and  it  had  been  by  raising  one  of  the  stones  in  the 
most  obscure  corner  that  Faria  had  been  able  to  commence  the 
laborious  task  of  which  Dantes  had  witnessed  the  completion. 

As  he  entered  the  chamber  of  his  friend,  Dantes  cast  around 
one  eager  and  searching  glance  in  quest  of  the  expected  marvels, 
but  nothing  more  than  common  met  his  view. 

44  It  is  well,”  said  the  abbe  ; 44  we  have  some  hours  before  us — 
it  is  now  just  a quarter  past  twelve  o’clock.”  Instinctively  Dantes 
turned  round  to  observe  by  what  watch  or  clock  the  abbe  had 
been  able  so  accurately  to  specify  the  hour. 

44  Look  at  this  ray  of  light  which  enters  by  my  window,”  said 
the  abbe,  44  and  then  observe  the  lines  traced  on  the  wall.  Well, 
by  means  of  these  lines,  I am  enabled  to  ascertain  the  precise 
hour  with  more  minuteness  than  if  I possessed  a watch.” 

This  last  explanation  was  wholly  lost  upon  Dantes,  who  had 
always  imagined,  from  seeing  the  sun  rise  from  behind  the 
mountains  and  set  in  the  Mediterranean,  that  it  moved,  and  not 
the  earth. 

44  Come,”  said  he,  44  show  me  the  wonderful  inventions  you 
told  me  of — I am  all  impatience  to  behold  them.” 

The  priest  smiled,  and,  proceeding  to  the  disused  fireplace, 
raised,  by  the  help  of  his  chisel,  a long  stone,  which  had  doubt- 
less been  the  hearth,  beneath  which  was  a cavity  of  consider- 
able depth,  serving  as  a safe  depository  of  the  articles  men- 
tioned to  Dantes. 

44  What  do  you  wish  to  see  first?  ’*  asked  the  abbe. 

44  Oh  ! your  great  work  on  the  monarchy  of  Italy  ! ' 

Faria  then  drew  forth  from  his  hiding-place  three  or  four  rolls 
of  linen,  laid  one  over  the  other,  like  the  folds  of  papyrus  found 
m mummy-cases.  These  rolls  consisted  of  slips  of  cloth  about 
four  inches  wide  and  eighteen  long  ; they  were  all  carefully  num- 
bered and  closely  covered  with  writing*  so  legible  that  Dante? 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTQ. 

could  easily  read  it,  as  well  as  make  out  the  sense —it  being  in 
Italian,  a language  he,  as  a Provencal,  perfectly  understood. 

“There!  ” said  he,  “ there  is  the  work  complete — I wrote  the 
word  finis  at  the  end  of  the  last  page  about  a week  ago.  1 
have  torn  up  two  of  my  shirts,  and  as  many  handkerchiefs  as 
I was  master  of,  to  complete  the  precious  pages.  Should  I ever 
get  out  of  prison,  and  find  a printer  courageous  enough  to  publish 
what  I have  composed,  my  literary  reputation  is  for  ever  secured.” 

“I  see,”  answered  Dantes.  “ Now  let  me  behold  the  curious 
pens  with  which  you  have  written  your  work.” 

“Look!”  said  Faria,  showing  to  the  young  man  a slender 
stick  about  six  inches  long,  and  much  resembling  the  size  of  the 
handle  of  a fine  painting-brush,  to  the  end  of  which  was  tied, 
by  a piece  of  thread,  one  of  those  cartilages  of  which  the  abbe 
had  before  spoken  to  Dantes ; it  was  pointed,  and  split  at  the  nib 
like  an  ordinary  pen.  Dantes  examined  it  with  intense  admira- 
tion, then  looked  around  to  see  the  instrument  with  which  it  had 
been  shaped  so  correctly  into  form. 

“Ah,  I see,”  said  Faria,  “you  are  wondering  where  I found  my 
pen-knife,  are  not  you?  Well,  I must  confess  that  I look  upon 
that  article  of  my  ingenuity  as  the  very  perfection  of  all  my  handi- 
works. I made  it,  as  well  as  this  knife,  out  of  a a old  iron  candle- 
stick.” The  penknife  was  sharp  and  keen  as  a razor  ; as  for  the 
other  knife,  it  possessed  the  double  advantage  of  being  capable 
of  serving  either  as  a dagger  or  a knife. 

Dantes  examined  the  various  articles  showir  to  him  with  tha 
same  attention  he  had  bestowed  on  the  curiosities  and  strange 
tools  exhibited  in  the  shops  at  Marseilles  as  the  works  of  the  sav- 
ages  in  the  South  Seas  from  whence  they  had  been  brought  bj* 
the  different  trading  vessels. 

“As  for  the  ink,”  said  Faria,  “ I told  you  bnv  I managed  to 
obtain  that — and  I only  just  make  it  from  time  to  time,  as  I re- 
quire it.” 

“There  is  one  thing  puzzles  me  still,”  observed  Dantes,  “ and 
that  is  how  you  managed  to  do  all  this  by  daylight?  ” 

“ I worked  at  night  also,”  replied  Farie.  “ I separated  the  fat 
from  the  meat  served  to  me,  melted  it,  and  mad*  a most  capital 
oil — here  is  my  lamp.”  So  saying,  he  exhibited  a sort  of  floating 
wick  lamp. 

“But  how  do  you  procure  a light  ? * 

Oh,  here  are  two  flints  and  a morsel  of  burnt  lLien.” 

“ And  your  matches?  ” 

“ Were  easily  prepared.  I feigned  a disorder  of  the  skin,  and 
asked  for  a little  sulphur,  which  was  readily  supplied.  Dantes 
laid  the  different  things  he  had  been  looking  atgentl/  on  the  table, 
and  stood  with  his  head  drooping  on  his  breast,  as  though  over- 
whelmed by  the  persevering  spirit  and  strength  of  < *»aracter  de- 
veloped in  each  fresh  trait  of  his  new-found  friend’i  induct. 

4 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


-5& 

'‘You  have  not  seen  all  yet,”  continued  Faria,  “for  I did  not 
think  it  wise  to  trust  all  my  treasures  in  the  same  hiding-place. 
Let  us  shut  this  one  up,  and  then  you  shall  see  what  else  I have  to 
display.”  Dantes  helped  him  to  replace  the  stone  as  they  first 
found  it  ; the  abbe  sprinkled  a little  dust  over  it  to  conceal  the 
traces  of  its  having  been  removed,  rubbed  his  foot  well  on  it  to 
make  it  assume  the  same  appearance  as  the  other,  and  then,  going 
toward  his  bed,  he  removed  it  from  the  spot  it  stood  in.  Behind 
the  head  of  the  bed,  and  concealed  by  a stone  fitting  in  so  closely 
as  to  defy  all  suspicion,  was  a hollow  space,  and  in  this  space  a 
ladder  of  cords,  between  twenty-five  and  thirty  feet  in  length* 
Dantes  closely  and  eagerly  examined  it : he  found  it  firm,  solid, 
and  compact  enough  to  bear  any  weight. 

“ Who  supplied  you  with  the  materials  for  making  this  wonder- 
ful work?”  asked  Dantes. 

“No  one  but  myself.  I tore  up  several  of  my  shirts,  and  un- 
ravelled the  sheets  of  my  bed,  during  my  three  years’  imprison- 
ment at  Fenestrelle  ; and  when  I was  removed  to  the  Chateau 
d’lf,  I managed  to  bring  the  ravellings  with  me,  so  that  I have 
been  able  to  finish  my  work  here.” 

“ And  was  it  not  discovered  that  your  sheets  were  unhemmed?  ” 

“Oh,  no!  for  when  I had  taken  out  the  thread  I required,  I 
hemmed  the  edges  over  again.” 

“ With  what?” 

“With  this  needle!”  said  the  abbe,  as,  opening  his  ragged 
vestments,  he  showed  Dantes  a long,  sharp  fish-bone,  with  a small 
perforated  eye  for  the  thread,  a small  portion  of  which  still  re- 
mained in  it.  “I  once  thought,”  continued  Faria,  “of  remov- 
ing these  iron  bars,  and  letting  myself  down  from  the  window, 
which,  as  you  see,  is  somewhat  wider  than  yours,  although  I 
should  have  enlarged  it  still  more  preparatory  to  my  flight;  how- 
ever, I discovered  that  I should  merely  have  dropped  into  a sort 
of  inner  court,  and  I therefore  renounced  the  project  altogether  as 
too  full  of  risk  and  danger.  Nevertheless,  I carefully  preserved 
my  ladder  against  one  of  those  unforeseen  opportunities  of  which 
I spoke  just  now,  and  which  sudden  chance  frequently  brings 
about.”  While  affecting  to  be  deeply  engaged  in  examining  the 
ladder,  the  mind  of  Dantes  was,  in  fact,  busily  occupied  by  the 
idea  that  a person  so  intelligent,  ingenious,  and  clear-sighted, 
might  probably  be  enabled  to  dive  into  the  dark  recesses  of  his 
own  misfortunes,  and  cause  that  light  to  shine  upon  the  mystery 
connected  with  them  he  had  in  vain  sought  to  elicit. 

“What  are  you  thinking  of?”  asked  the  abbe  smilingly,  im- 
puting the  deep  abstraction  in  which  his  visitor  v/as  plunged  to  the 
excess  of  his  awe  and  wonder. 

“ I v/as  reflecting,  in  the  first  place,”  replied  Dantes,  “ upon  the 
enormous  degree  of  intelligence  and  ability  you  must  have  em- 
ployed to  reach  the  high  perfection  to  which  you  have  attained.  If 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  5 1 

you  thus  surpass  all  mankind  while  but  a prisoner,  what  would  you 
^aot  have  accomplished  free  ?” 

“ Possibly  nothing  at  all ; the  overflow  of  my  brain  would  prob- 
ably, in  a state  of  freedom,  have  evaporated  in  a thousand  follies  ; 
it  needs  trouble  and  difficulty  and  danger  to  hollow  out  various 
mysterious  and  hidden  mines  of  human  intelligence.  Pressure  is 
required,  you  know,  to  ignite  powder : captivity  has  collected  into 
one  single  focus  all  the  floating  faculties  of  my  mind  ; they  have 
come  into  close  contact  in  the  narrow  space  in  which  they  have 
been  wedged  ; and  you  are  well  aware  that  from  the  collision  of 
clouds  electricity  is  produced — from  electricity  comes  the  lightning, 
from  whose  flash  we  have  light  amid  our  greatest  darkness.” 
“Alas,  no!”  replied  Dantes.  “I  know  not  that  these  things 
follow  in  such  natural  order.  Oh,  I am  very  ignorant ! and  you 
must  be  blessed  indeed  to  possess  the  knowledge  you  have.” 

The  abbe  smiled.  “ Well,”  said  he,  “ but  you  had  another 
subject  for  your  thoughts  besides  admiration  for  me  ; did  you  not 
say  so  just  now?  I did  ! ” 

“ You  have  told  me  as  yet  but  one  of  them, — let  me  hear  the 
other." 

a<  It  was  this  : — that  while  you  had  related  to  me  all  the  par- 
ticulars of  your  past  life,  you  were  perfectly  unacquainted  with 
mine.” 

“ Your  life,  my  young  friend,  has  not  been  of  sufficient  length 
to  admit  of  your  having  passed  through  any  very  important 
events.” 

“ It  has  been  long  enough  to  inflict  on  me  a misfortune  so  great, 
so  crushingly  overwhelming,  that,  unconscious  as  I am  of  having 
\n  any  way  deserved  it,  I would  fain  know  who,  of  all  mankind, 
has  been  the  accursed  author  of  it,  that  I may  no  longer  accuse 
Heaven,  as  I have  done  in  my  fury  and  despair,  of  wilful  injus- 
tice toward  an  innocent  and  injured  man.” 

“ Then  you  profess  ignorance  of  the  crime  with  which  you  are 
charged  ? ” 

"I  do,  indeed  ; and  this  I swear  by  the  two  beings  most  dear  to 
me  upon  earth — my  father  and  Mercedes.” 

“ Come,”  said  the  abbe,  closing  his  hiding-place,  and  pushing 
the  bed  back  to  its  original  situation,  “ let  me  hear  your  story.” 
Dantes  obeyed. 

His  recital  finished,  the  abbe  reflected  long  and  earnestly. 

“ There  is,”  said  he  at  the  end  of  his  meditations,  “ a clever 
maxim : — that  if  you  wish  to  discover  the  guilty,  seek  him  to 
whom  the  perpetration  is  advantageous.  Now,  to  apply  it  in  your 
case  : — to  whom  could  your  disappearance  have  been  service- 
able ? * * 

“ To  no  breathing  soul.  Why,  who  could  have  cared  about  the 
removal  of  so  insignificant  a person  as  myself?  ” 

Do  not  speak  thus,  for  your  reply  evinces  neither  logic  nor  phU« 


52 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


osophy  ; but  let  us  return  to  your  world.  You  say  you  were  on 
the  point  of  being  appointed  captain  of  the  Pharaoh  f ” 

1 ‘ And  about  to  become  the  husband  of  a young  and  lovely  girl  ? ” 
True.” 

“Now,  could  any  one  have  had  any  interest  in  preventing  the 
accomplishment  of  these  two  circumstances  ? But  let  us  first  set- 
tle the  question  as  to  its  being  the  interest  of  anyone  to  hinder  you 
from  being  captain  of  the  Pharaoh.  What  say  you  ? ” 

41 1 cannot  believe  such  was  the  case.  I was  generally  liked  on 
board  ; and  had  the  sailors  possessed  the  right  of  selecting  a cap. 
tain  themselves,  I feel  convinced  their  choice  would  have  fallen 
on  me.  There  was  only  one  person  among  the  crew  who  had  any 
feeling  of  ill-will  towards  me.  I had  quarrelled  with  him  some 
time  previously,  and  had  even  challenged  him  to  fight  me  ; but  he 
refused.” 

“ Now  we  are  getting  on.  And  what  was  this  man’s  name  ? ” 

“ Danglars,  the  supercargo.” 

“ And  had  you  been  captain,  should  you  have  retained  him  in 
his  employment  ? ” 

“Not  if  the  choice  had  remained  with  me,  for  I had  frequently 
observed  inaccuracies  in  his  accounts.” 

“ Good  again  ! Now  then,  tell  me,  was  any  person  present  dur- 
ing your  last  conversation  with  Captain  Leclere?” — —“No, 
stay  ! now  I recollect, — Danglars  himself  passed  by  just  as  Cap- 
tain Leclere  was  giving  me  the  packet  for  the  grand  marshal.” 
“That  will  do,”  cried  the  abbe  ; “now  we  are  on  the  right 
scent.  Did  you  take  anybody  with  you  when  you  put  into  the 
port  of  Elba  ? ” “ Nobody.” 

“ Somebody  there  received  your  packet,  and  gave  you  a letter 

in  place  of  it,  I think  ? ” “ Yes  : the  grand  marshal  did.” 

“ And  what  did  you  do  with  that  letter  ? ” “ Put  it  into  my 

pocket-book  on  my  return  to  the  ship.” 

“ And  what  did  you  do  with  this  same  letter  while  returning  from 

Porto  Ferrajo  to  your  vessel?” “ I carried  it  in  my  hand.” 

“ So  that  when  you  went  on  board  everybody  could  perceive 
you  held  a letter  in  your  hand  ? Danglars  as  well  as  the  rest  ? ” 

“ Yes  ; he  as  well  as  others.” 

“ Now,  listen  to  me,  and  try  to  recall  every  circumstance  at- 
tending your  arrest.  Do  you  recollect  the  words  in  which  the  in- 
formation against  you  was  couched?  ” 

!.  Dantes  paused  a few  instants,  as  though  collecting  his  ideas, 
*then  said,  “ This  is  it,  word  for  word  : — ‘ The  Royal  Persecutor  is 
informed  by  a friend  to  the  Throne  and  Religion  that  one  Edmond 
Dantes,  first  mate  of  the  ship  Pharaoh , in  this  morning  from 
Smyrna,  after  touching  at  Naples  and  Porto  Ferrajo,  was  charged 
by  Murat  with  a letter  for  the  Usurper,  and  by  the  latter  with 
another  for  the  Bonapartist  Club  at  Paris.  The  proof  of  his  crime 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  53 

will  be  found  on  arresting  him  ; for  he  will  have  the  letter  on  him, 
or  it  will  be  at  his  father’s,  or  aboard  the  ship.’  ” 

The  abbe  shrugged  up  his  shoulders.  “ The  thing  is  clear  as 
day,”  said  he  ; “ and  you  must  have  had  a very  unsuspecting  na- 
ture, as  well  as  a good  heart,  not  to  have  suspected  the  origin  of 
the  whole  affair.” 

“ Do  you  really  think  so  ? Ah,  that  would  indeed  be  the  treachi 
ery  of  a villain  ! ” 

“ How  did  Danglars  usually  write?” 11  Oh ! extremely 

well.” 

“ And  how  was  the  anonymous  letter  written  ? M 
“ All  the  wrong  way — backwards,  you  know.”  Again  the  abbe 

smiled.  “In  fact  it  was  a disguised  hand  ? ” “I  don’t  know; 

it  was  very  boldly  written,  if  disguised.” 

“ Stop  a bit,”  said  the  abbe,  taking  up  what  he  called  his  pen, 
and,  after  dipping  it  into  the  ink,  he  wrote  on  a morsel  of  pre, 
pared  linen,  with  his  left  hand,  the  first  two  or  three  words  of  the 
accusation.  Dantes  drew  back,  and  gazed  on  the  abbd  with  a 
sensation  almost  amounting  to  terror. 

“How  very  astonishing!”  cried  he,  at  length.  “ Why  your 
writing  exactly  resembles  that  of  the  accusation  ! ” 

“ Simply  because  that  accusation  had  been  written  with  the  left 

hand  ; and  I have  always  remarked  one  thing ” 

“What  is  that?” “That  whereas  all  writing  with  the  right 

hand  varies,  that  performed  with  the  left  hand  is  invariably 
similar.” 

“ Now  as  regards  the  second  question.  Was  there  any  person 
whose  interest  it  was  to  prevent  your  marriage  with  Mercedes  ? ” 

“ Yes,  a young  man  who  loved  her,  Fernand,  a Catalan.” 

“You  imagine  him  capable  of  writing  the  letter  ? ” 

“ Oh,  no  ! he  would  more  likely  have  got  rid  of  me  by  sticking 
a knife  into  me.” 

“ That  is  in  strict  accordance  with  the  Spanish  character  ; an 
assassination  they  will  unhesitatingly  commit,  but  an  act  of  cow- 
ardice, never.” 

“ Ilesides,”  said  Dantes,  “ the  various  circumstances  mentioned 
in  the  letter  were  wholly  unknown  to  him.” 

“ You  had  never  spoken  of  them  yourself  to  any  one  ? ” 

“ No,  not  even  to  my  betrothed  bride.”  1 

“ Then  it  is  Danglars,  beyond  a doubt.” 

“ Pray  was  Danglars  acquainted  with  Fernand  ? ” 

“No yes,  he  was.  Now  I recollect  them  both  sitting  at 

table  together  beneath  an  inn  arbour  the  evening  before  the  day 
fixed  for  my  wedding.  They  were  in  earnest  conversation.  Dang- 
lars was  joking  in  a friendly  way,  but  Fernand  looked  pale  and 
agitated.” 

“ Were  they  alone  ? ” “ There  was  a third  person  with  them 

whom  I knew  perfectly  well,  and  who  had,  in  all  probability,  made 


54 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


their  acquaintance  ; a tailor  named  Caderousse,  but  he  was  quite 
intoxicated.  Stay  ! — stay  ! — How  strange  that  it  should  not  nave 
occurred  to  me  before  ! Now  I remember  quite  well,  that  on  the 
table  round  which  they  were  sitting  were  pens,  ink,  and  paper. 
Oh!  the  heartless  treacherous  scoundrels!”  exclaimed  Dantes, 
pressing  his  hand  to  his  throbbing  brows. 

“ Is  there  anything  else  I can  assist  you  in  discovering,  besides 
the  villany  of  your  friends  ? ” inquired  the  abbe. 

“ Yes,  yes,”  replied  Dantes,  eagerly  ; “ I would  beg  of  you,  who 
see  so  completely  to  the  depths  of  things,  and  to  whom  the  greatest 
mystery  seems  but  an  easy  riddle,  to  explain  to  me  how  it  was 
that  I underwent  no  second  examination,  was  never  brought  to 
trial,  and  above  all,  my  being  condemned  without  ever  having  had 
sentence  passed  on  me?  ” 

“ That  is  altogether  a different  and  more  serious  matter,”  re- 
sponded the  abbe,  “ The  ways  of  justice  are  frequently  too  dark 
and  mysterious  to  be  easily  penetrated.  All  we  have  hitherto  done 
in  the  matter  has  been  child’s  play.  If  you  wish  me  to  enter  upon 
the  more  difficult  part  of  the  business,  you  must  assist  me  by  the 
most  minute  information  on  every  point.” 

“That  I will  gladly.  So  pray  begin,  my  dear  abbe,  and  ask 
me  whatever  questions  you  please  ; for,  in  good  truth,  you  seem  to 
turn  over  the  pages  of  my  past  life  far  better  than  I could  do  my- 
self.” 

“ In  the  first  place,  then,  who  examined  you, — the  prosecutor, 
his  deputy,  or  a magistrate  ? ” 

“ The  deputy.” 

“ Was  he  young  or  old  ? ••  About  six  or  seven-and- twenty 

years  of  age,  I should  say.” 

“To  be  sure,”  answered  the  abbe.  “ Old  enough  to  be  ambi* 
tious,  but  not  sufficiently  so  to  have  hardened  his  heart.  And 
how  did  he  treat  you  ? ” 

“ With  more  of  mildness  than  severity.  He  seemed  quite  over- 
come at  the  thoughts  of  the  danger  I was  in.” 

“ You  were  in?  ” “ Yes  : for  whom  else  could  he  have  felt 

any  apprehensions!  ” 

“ Then  you  feel  quite  convinced  he  sincerely  pitied  your  misfor- 
tune? ” 

“Why,  he  gave  me  one  great  proof  of  his  sympathy,  at  least. 
He  burnt  the  sole  proof  that  could  at  all  have  criminated  me,  the 
letter  I was  entrusted  to  convey  to  Paris.” 

“ Ay,  indeed!  that  alters  the  case,  and  leads  to  the  conclusion 
that  this  man  might,  after  all,  be  a greater  scoundrel  than  I at  first 
believed.” 

“ Upon  my  word,”  said  Dantes,  “you  make  me  shudder.  If  I 
listen  much  longer  to  you,  I shall  believe  the  world  is  filled  with 
tigers  and  crocodiles.” 

“ Only  remember  that  two-legged  tigers  and  crocodiles  t*T 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  55 

mw?f  <l&ngerous  than  those  that  walk  on  four.  You  tell  me  he 
buvflf  the  letter  in  your  presence  ? ” 

4 He  did  ; saying  at  the  same  time,  * You  see  I thus  destroy  the 
only  proof  existing  against  you.” 

“Tfds  action  is  somewhat  too  sublime  to  be  natural.  To  whom 
was  tl&s  letter  addressed  ? ” 

"T^M.  Noirtier.  No.  13,  Rue  Coq-Heron,  Paris.” 

“ No;,rtier,”  repeated  the  abbe  ; " Noirtier! — I knew  a person 
of  that  #iame  at  the  court  of  the  Queen  of  Etruria, — a Noirtier,  a 
Girondin  during  the  Revolution  ! What  was  your  deputy  named  ? ” 
“ De  Villefort ! ” The  abbe  burst  into  a fit  of  laughter  ; while 
Dantes  gazed  on  him  in  utter  astonishment. 

“ What  ails  you  ? ” said  he,  at  length. 

" Do  you  see  this  ray  of  light?  ” " I do.” 

“ Well ! I see  my  way  into  the  full  meaning  of  all  the  proceed- 
ings against  you  more  clearly  than  you  even  discern  that  sunbeam. 
Poor  fellow!  poor  young  man!  And  you  tell  me  this  magistrate 
expressed  great  sympathy  and  commiseration  for  you,  and  de- 
stroyed your  compromising  letter  ? ” 

" He  burnt  it  before  me!  ” 

“ Why,  you  poor  short-sighted  simpleton,  can  you  not  guess  who 
this  Noirtier  was,  whose  very  name  he  was  so  careful  to  keep  con- 
cealed ? ” 

"Indeed  I cannot ! ” 

" No  other  than  the  father  of  your  sympathetic  deputy-prosecu- 
tor.” 

Had  a thunderbolt  fallen  at  the  feet  of  Dantes,  or  hell  opened  its 
yawning  gulf  before  him,  he  could  not  have  been  more  completely 
transfixed  with  horror  than  at  the  sound  of  words  so  wholly  unex- 
pected, revealing  as  they  did  the  fiendish  perfidy  which  had  con- 
signed him  to  wear  out  his  days  in  the  dark  cell  of  a prison  that 
was  to  him  as  a living  grave.  Starting  up,  he  clasped  his  hands 
around  his  head  as  though  to  prevent  his  very  brain  from  bursting, 
as  in  a choked  and  almost  inarticulate  voice  he  exclaimed,  " His 
father ! oh,  no  ! not  his  father,  surely  ! ” 

"His  own  father,  I assure  you,”  replied  the  abbe  ; "his  right 
name  was  Noirtier  de  Villefort!”  At  this  instant  a bright  light 
shot  through  the  mind  of  Dantes,  and  cleared  up  all  that  had  been 
dark  and  obscure  before.  He  hurried  to  the  opening  conducting 
from  the  cell  to  his  own,  and  said, — "I  must  be  alone  to  think 
over  all  this.” 

When  he  regained  his  dungeon,  he  threw  himself  on  his  bed, 
where  the  turnkey  found  him  at  his  evening  visit,  sitting,  with  fixed 
gaze  and  contracted  features,  still  and  motionless  as  a statue  ; but 
during  hours  of  deep  meditation,  which  to  him  had  seemed  but  as 
minutes,  he  had  formed  a fearful  resolution,  and  bound  himself  to 
its  fulfilment  by  a solemn  oath.  Dantes  was  at  length  roused  from 
his  reverie  by  the  voice  of  T aria  who,  having  also  been  visited  by 


2 HE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


& 

his  jailer  had  come  to  invite  his  fellow  sufferer  to  share  his  supper. 
The  reputation  of  being  out  of  his  mind,  though  harmlessly  and 
even  amusingly  so,  had  procured  for  the  abbe  greater  privileges 
than  allowed  in  general.  He  was  supplied  with  bread  of  a finer, 
whiter  description  than  the  usual  prison  fare,  and  even  regaled 
each  Sunday  with  wine  : the  present  day  chanced  to  be  Sunday, 
and  the  priest  came,  delighted  at  having  such  luxuries  to  offer  his 
new  friend.  Dantes  followed  him  with  a firm  and  assured  step  ; 
|his  features  had  lost  their  almost  spasmodic  contraction,  and  now 
wore  their  usual  expression ; but  there  was  that  in  his  whole  ap- 
pearance that  bespoke  one  who  had  come  to  a fixed  and  desperate 
resolve.  Faria  bent  on  him  his  penetrating  eye  : “ I regret  now,*' 
said  he,  44  having  helped  you  in  your  late  inquiries,  or  having 
given  you  the  information  I did,  because  it  has  instilled  a new 
passion  in  you  heart — that  of  vengeance.’* 

A bitter  smile  played  over  the  features  of  the  young  man  : 44  Let 
us  talk  of  something  else,”  said  he. 

Again  the  abbe  looked  at  him,  then  mournfully  shook  his  head  r 
but  in  accordance  with  Dantes’  request  he  began  to  speak  of  other 
matters. 

44  You  must  teach  me  a small  part  of  what  you  know,”  said 
Dantes,  4 4 if  only  to  prevent  your  growing  weary  of  me.  I can 
well  believe  that  so  learned  a person  as  yourself  would  prefer  ab- 
solute solitude  to  being  tormented  with  the  company  of  one  as  ig- 
norant and  uninformed  as  myself.  If  you  will  only  agree  to  my 
request,  I promise  you  never  to  mention  another  word  about  escap- 
ing.” The  abbe  smiled.  44  Alas  ! my  child,**  said  he,  44  human 
knowledge  is  confined  within  very  narrow  limits  ; and  when  I have 
taught  you  mathematics,  physics,  history,  and  the  three  or  four 
modern  languages  with  which  I am  acquainted,  you  will  know  as 
much  as  I do  myself.  Now,  it  will  scarcely  require  two  years  for 
me  to  communicate  to  you  the  stock  of  learning  I possess.” 

44  Two  years!  ” exclaimed  Dantes  ; 44  do  you  really  believe  1 

can  acquire  all  these  things  in  so  short  a time?” 44  Not  theii7 

application,  certainly,  but  their  principles  you  may ; to  learn  is 
not  to  know  ; there  are  the  learners  and  the  learned.  Memory 
makes  the  one,  philosophy  the  other.** 

44  But  can  I not  learn  philosophy  as  well  as  other  things  ? *’ 

44My  son,  philosophy,  as  I understand  it,  is  reducible  to  no 
rules  by  which  it  can  be  learned  ; it  is  the  amalgamation  of  all  the 
sciences,  the  golden  cloud  which  bears  the  soul  to  heaven.** 

44  Well,  then,*’  said  Dantes,  44  leaving  philosophy  out  of  the 
question,  tell  me  what  you  shall  teach  me  first?  I feel  my  great 
need  of  scientific  knowledge,  and  long  to  begin  the  work  of  im- 
provement ; say,  when  shall  we  commence?** 

44  Directly,  if  you  will,”  said  the  abbe.  And  that  very  evening 
the  prisoners  sketched  a plan  of  education,  to  be  entered  upon  the 
following  day,  Dantes  possessed  a prodigious  memory,  combined 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


ST 


«dth  an  astonishing  quickness  and  readiness  of  conception ; ab- 
sorbed in  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  days,  even  months,  passed 
by  unheeded  in  one  rapid  and  instructive  course  ; time  flew  on# 
and  at  the  end  of  a year  Dantes  was  a new  man. 

They  began  a fresh  tunnel.  In  fifteen  months,  it  was  made, 
the  excavation  completed  beneath  the  gallery,  and  the  two  work- 
men could  distinctly  hear  the  measured  tread  of  the  sentinel  as  he 
paced  to  and  fro  over  their  heads. 

Compelled,  as  they  were,  to  await  a night  sufficiently  dark  to 
favor  their  flight,  they  were  obliged  to  defer  their  final  attempt  till 
that  auspicious  moment  should  arrive  ; their  greatest  dread  now 
Was  lest  the  stone  through  which  the  sentry  was  doomed  to  fall 
should  give  way  before  its  right  time,  and  this  they  had  in  some 
measure  provided  against  by  placing  under  it,  a prop,  discovered 
among  the  foundations.  Dantes  was  occupied  in  arranging  this 
piece  of  wood  when  he  heard  Faria,  who  had  remained  in  Ed- 
mond’s cell  for  the  purpose  of  cutting  a peg  to  secure  their  rope- 
ladder,  call  to  him  in  suffering.  Dantes  hastened  to  his  dungeon, 
where  he  found  him  standing  in  the  middle  pale  as  death,  his  fore- 
head streaming  with  perspiration,  and  his  hands  clenched. 

“Heavens!”  exclaimed  Dantes,  “ what  is  the  matter  ? what 
ails  you?  ” 

“Quick!  quick!”  returned  the  abbe,  “listen.  I am  seized 
with  a terrible,  perhaps  mortal  illness  ; I can  feel  that  the  parox- 
ysm is  fast  approaching.  I had  a similar  attack  the  year  previous 
to  my  imprisonment.  This  malady  admits  but  of  one  remedy  ; I 
will  tell  you  what  that  is.  Go  into  my  cell  as  quickly  as  you  can  ; 
draw  out  one  of  the  feet  that  support  the  bed ; you  will  find  it  has 
been  hollowed  out  for  the  purpose  of  containing  a small  phial  you 
will  see  there  half-filled  with  a red-looking  fluid.  Bring  it  to  me 

or  rather,  no,  no ! I may  be  found  here  ; therefore  help  me 
back  to  my  room  while  I have  any  strength  to  drag  myself 
along.  Who  knows  what  may  happen,  or  how  long  the  fit  may 
last?” 

Spite  of  the  misfortune  which  thu3  suddenly  frustrated  his 
hopes,  Dant&s  lost  not  his  presence  of  mind,  but  descended  into 
the  corridor,  dragging  his  unfortunate  companion  with  him  ; then, 
half  carrying,  half  supporting  him,  he  managed  to  reach  the 
abbe’s  chamber,  when  he  immediately  laid  the  sufferer  on  his 
bed. 

“Thanks!”  said  the  poor  priest,  shivering  as  though  his  veins 
were  filled  with  ice.  “ Now  that  I am  safely  here,  let  me  explain 
to  you  the  nature  of  my  attack,  and  the  appearance  it  will  pre- 
sent. I am  seized  with  a fit  of  catalepsy  ; when  it  comes  to  its 
height,  I may,  probably,  lie  still  and  motionless  as  though  dead, 
uttering  neither  sigh  nor  groan.  On  the  other  hand,  the  symp- 
toms may  be  much  more  violent,  and  cause  me  to  fall  into 
jarful  convulsions,  cover  my  lips  with  foaming,  and  force  from 


58  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

me  the  most  piercing  shrieks.  This  last  evil  you  must  carefully 
guard  against,  for,  were  my  cries  to  be  heard,  it  is  more  than  probable 
I should  be  removed  to  another  part  of  the  prison,  and  we  be 
separated  for  ever.  When  I become  quite  motionless,  cold,  and 
rigid  as  a corpse,  then,  and  not  before,  you  understand,  force 
open  my  teeth  with  a chisel,  pour  from  eight  to  ten  drops  of  the 
liquor  contained  in  the  phial  down  my  throat,  and  I may  perhaps 
revive.” 

“ Perhaps?  ” exclaimed  Dantes,  in  grief-stricken  tones. 

“ Help  ! help  ! ” cried  the  abbe,  11 1 — I — die — I ” 

So  sudden  and  violent  was  the  fit,  that  the  unfortunate  prisoner 
was  unable  to  complete  the  sentence  begun.  The  fit  lasted  two 
hours  ; then,  more  helpless  than  an  infant,  and  colder  and  paler 
than  marble,  more  crushed  and  broken  than  a reed  trampled 
under  foot,  he  stretched  himself  out  as  though  in  the  agonies  of 
death,  and  became  of  the  ghastly  hue  of  the  tomb. 

Edmond  waited  till  life  seemed  extinct  in  the  body  of  his  friend, 
then,  taking  up  the  chisel,  he  with  difficulty  forced  open  the  closely- 
fixed  jaws,  ^carefully  poured  the  appointed  number  of  drops  down 
the  rigid  thPoat,  and  anxiously  awaited  the  result.  An  hour  passed 
away  without  the  old  man’s  giving  the  least  sign  of  returning 
animation.  At  length  a slight  color  tinged  the  livid  cheeks,  con- 
sciousness returned  to  the  dull,  open  eyeballs,  a faint  sigh  issued 
from  the  lips,  and  the  sufferer  made  a feeble  effort  to  move. 

“He  is  saved!  saved!  ” cried  Dantes,  in  a paroxysm  of  de- 
light. 

The  sick  man  was  not  yet  able  to  speak,  but  he  pointed  with 
evident  anxiety  toward  the  door.  Dantes  listened,  and  plainly 
distinguished  the  approaching  steps  of  the  jailer.  It  was  there- 
fore near  seven  o’clock ; but  Edmond’s  anxiety  had  put  all 
thoughts  of  time  out  of  his  head.  The  young  man  sprang  to  the 
entrance,  darted  through  it,  carefully  drawing  the  stone  over  the 
opening,  and  hurried  to  his  cell.  He  had  scarcely  done  so  before 
the  door  opened,  and  disclosed  to  the  jailer’s  inquisitorial  gaze 
the  prisoner  seated  as  usual  on  the  side  of  his  bed.  Almost  be- 
fore the  key  had  turned  in  the  lock,  and  before  the  departing 
steps  of  the  jailer  had  died  away  in  the  long  corridor  he  had  to 
traverse,  Dantes,  whose  restless  anxiety  concerning  his  friend  left 
him  no  desire  to  touch  the  food  brought  him,  hurried  back  to  the 
abbe’s  chamber,  and  raising  the  stone  by  pressing  his  head 
against  it,  was  soon  beside  the  sick  man’s  couch.  Faria  had 
now  fully  regained  his  consciousness,  but  he  still  lay  helpless  and 
exhausted  on  his  miserable  bed. 

“ I did  not  expect  to  see  you  again,”  said  he,  feebly,  to  Dan- 
tes. 

“And  why  not?”  asked  the  young  man.  “Did  you  fancy 
yourself  dying?” 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


59 


11  No,  I had  no  such  idea  ; but,  knowing  that  all  was  ready  for 
your  flight,  I considered  you  had  availed  yourself  of  it,  and  were 
gone.”  The  deep  glow  of  indignation  suffused  the  cheeks  of 
Dantes. 

“And  did  you  really  think  so  meanly  of  me,”  cried  he,  “as 

to  believe  I would  depart  without  you  ? ” “ At  least,”  said  the 

abbe,  “ I now  see  how  wrong  such  an  opinion  would  have  been. 
Alas,  alas  ! The  attack  which  has  just  passed  away,  condemns* 
me  for  ever  to  the  walls  of  a prison.  None  can  fly  from  their 
dungeon  but  those  who  can  walk.  Here,  remain  till  the  hour 
of  my  deliverance  arrives ; and  that,  in  all  human  probability, 
will  be  the  hour  of  my  death.  As  for  you,  who  are  young  and 
active,  delay  not  on  my  account,  but  fly — go — I give  you  back 
your  promise.” 

“It  is  well,”  said  Dantes.  “And  now  hear  my  determination 
also.”  Then,  risi»g  and  extending  his  hand  with  an  air  of 
solemnity  over  the  old  man’s  head,  he  slowly  added,  “ Here  I 
swear  to  remain  with  you  so  long  as  life  is  spared  to  you,  and  that 
death  only  shall  divide  us.” 

Faria  gazed  fondly  on  his  noble-minded  but  single-hearted 
young  friend,  and  read  in  his  honest,  open  countenance  ample 
confirmation  of  truthfulness,  as  well  as  sincere,  affectionate,  and 
faithful  devotion. 

“Thanks,  my  child,”  murmured  the  invalid,  extending  the  one 
hand  of  which  he  still  retained  the  use.  “Thanks  for  you  gener- 
ous offer,  which  I accept  as  frankly  as  it  was  made.”  Then,  after 
a short  pause,  he  added,  “You  may  one  of  these  days  reap  the 
reward  of  your  disinterested  devotion.  But  as  I cannot,  and  you 
will  not,  quit  this  place,  it  becomes  necessary  to  fill  up  the  excava- 
tion beneath  the  soldier’s  gallery  ; he  might,  by  chance,  find  out 
the  hollow  sound  produced  by  his  footsteps  over  the  excavated 
ground,  and  call  the  attention  of  his  officer  to  the  circumstance. 
That  would  bring  about  a discovery  which  would  inevitably  lead 
to  our  being  separated.  Go,  then,  and  set  about  this  work,  in 
which,  unhappily,  I can  offer  you  no  assistance  ; keep  at  it  all 
night,  if  necessary,  and  do  not  return  here  to-morrow  till  after  the 
jailer  has  visited  me.  I shall  have  something  of  the  greatest  im- 
portance to  communicate  to  you.” 

Dantes  took  the  hand  of  the  abbe  who  smiled  encouragingly, 
and  retired  with  the  respect  and  obedience  pledged  to  his  aged 
friend, 


6o 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO* 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  CARDINAL’S  TREASURE. 

' When  Dantes  returned  next  morning  to  the  chamber  of  his 
companion  in  captivity,  he  found  Faria  calmly  seated.  In  the  ray 
of  light  which  entered  by  the  narrow  window,  he  held  open  in 
his  left  hand,  of  which  alone,  he  retained  the  use,  a morsel  of 
paper,  which,  from  being  constantly  rolled  into  a small  compass, 
had  the  form  of  a cylinder,  and  was  not  easily  kept  open.  He 
did  not  speak,  but  showed  the  paper  to  Dantes. 

44  Look  at  it,”  said  the  abbe,  with  a smile. 

44 1 have  looked  at  it  with  all  possible  attention,”  said  Dant&s, 
44  and  I only  see  a half-burnt  paper,  on  which  are  traces  of  Gothic 
characters,  traced  with  a peculiar  kind  of  ink.” 

44  This  paper,  my  friend,”  said  Faria.  44 1 may  now  avow  to 
you,  since  I have  proved  you — this  paper  is  my  treasure,  of 
which,  from  this  day  forth,  one  half  belongs  to  you.” 

A cold  damp  started  to  Dantes’  brow. 

44  Alas!  ” murmured  he,  44 this  is  a terrible  relapse  ! There  was 
only  this  blow  wanting.”  Then  he  said  aloud,  44  My  dear 
friend,  your  attack  has,  perhaps,  fatigued  you  ; had  you  not  better 
repose  awhile?  To-morrow,  if  you  will,  I will  hear  your  nar- 
rative ; but  to-day  I wish  to  nurse  you  carefully^  Besides,”  he 
said,  4*  a treasure  is  not  a thing  we  need  hurry.” 

44  On  the  contrary,  it  must  be  hurried,  Edmond!  ” replied  the 
old  man.  44  Who  knows  if  to-morrow,  or  the  next  day  after,  the 
third  attack  may  not  come  on  ? and  then  must  not  all  be  finished  ? 
Yes,  indeed,  I have  often  thought  with  a bitter  joy  that  these  riches, 
which  would  make  the  wealth  of  a dozen  families,  will  be  for  ever 
lost  to  those  men  who  persecute  me.  This  idea  was  one  of  ven- 
geance to  me,  and  I tasted  it  slowly  in  the  night  of  my  dungeon 
and  the  despair  of  my  captivity.  But  now  I have  forgiven  the 
world  for  the  love  of  you  ; now  I see  you  young  and  full  of 
hope  and  prospect — nv,w  that  I think  of  all  that  may  result  to 
you  in  the  good  fortune  of  such  a disclosure,  I shudder  at  any 
delay,  and  tremble  lest  I should  not  assure  to  one  as  worthy  as 
yourself  the  possession  of  so  vast  an  amount  of  hidden  treasure.” 
Edmond  turned  away  his  head  with  a sigh. 

“You  persist  in  your  incredulity,  Edmond,”  continued  Faria. 
“ My  words  have  not  convinced  'mu.  I see  you  require  proof/* 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


6l 


Well,  then,  read  this  paper,  which  I have  never  shown  to  any 
one.” 

“To-morrow,  my  dear  friend,”  said  Edmond,  desirous  of  not 
yielding  to  the  old  man’s  madness.  “ I thought  it  was  under- 
stood that  we  should  not  talk  of  that  until  to-morrow.” “ Then 

we  will  not  talk  of  it  until  to-morrow ; but  read  this  paper  to« 
day.” 

“Let  us  not  irritate  him,”  thought  Edmond,  and  taking  the 
paper,  of  which  part  was  wanting,  having  been  burnt,  no  doubt, 
by  some  accident,  he  read — 

this  treasure’s  existence,  amount 
millions  of  Roman  crowns  ; it  wi 
eth  rock  starting  in  a straight  li 
caves  are  two  openings  ; the  tre 
inmost — which  treasure  I leave  a 
25th  April,  1498. 

“ Why,”  said  Dantes,  " I see  nothing  but  broken  lines  and  un- 
connected words,  illegible  by  fire.” 

“ Yes,  to  you,  my  friend,  who  read  them  for  the  first  time  ; but 
not  for  me,  who  have  grown  pale  over  them  by  many  nights’ 
study,  and  have  reconstructed  every  phrase,  completed  every 
thought.” 

“ And  do  you  believe  you  have  discovered  the  concealed 
sense  ? ” 

“ I am  sure  I have,  and  you  shall  judge  for  yourself ; but  first 
listen  to  the  history  of  this  paper.” 

<•  Silence  ! ” exclaimed  Dantes.  “ Steps  approach — I go — 
adieu.” 

And  Dantes,  happy  to  escape  the  story  and  explanation  which 
could  not  fail  to  confirm  to  him  his  friend’s  malady,  glided  like  a 
snake  along  the  narrow  passage  ; whilst  Faria,  restored  by  his 
alarm  to  activity,  pushed  with  his  foot  the  stone  into  its  place,  and 
covered  it  with  a mat  in  order  the  more  effectually  to  avoid  discov- 
ery. 

It  was  the  governor,  who,  hearing  of  Faria’s  accident  from  the 
jailer,  had  come  in  person  to  see  him. 

During  this  time,  Edmond,  seated  on  his  bed  with  his  head  in 
his  hands,  tried  to  collect  his  scattered  thoughts.  All  was  so  ra- 
tional, grand,  and  logical,  with  Faria,  since  he  had  known  him, 
that  he  could  not  understand  how  so  much  wisdom  on  all  points 
could  be  allied  to  madness  in  any  one.  Was  Faria  deceived  as  to 
his  treasure,  or  was  all  the  world  deceived  as  to  Faria  ? 

Dantes  remained  in  his  cell  all  day,  not  daring  to  return  to  his 
friend,  thinking  thus  to  defer  the  moment  when  he  should  acquire 
the  certainty  that  the  priest  was  mad — such  a conviction  would  be 
so  terrible  ! 


62 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


But,  toward  the  evening  after  the  usual  visitation,  Faria,  not  see- 
ing the  young  man  appear,  tried  to  move,  and  get  over  the  distance 
which  separated  them.  Edmond  shuddered  when  he  heard  the 
painful  efforts  which  the  old  man  made  to  J_rag  himself  along  ; his 
leg  was  inert,  and  he  could  no  longer  make  use  of  one  arm.  Ed- 
mond was  compelled  to  draw  him  toward  himself,  for  otherwise  he 
could  not  enter  by  the  small  aperture  which  led  to  Dantes’  cham- 
ber. 

“ Here  I am,  pursuing  you  remorselessly,”  he  said,  with  a benig- 
nant smile.  “ You  thought  to  escape  my  munificence,  but  it  is  in 
vain.  Listen  to  me.” 

Edmond  saw  there  was  no  escape,  and  placing  the  old  man  on 
his  bed,  he  seated  himself  on  the  stool  beside  him. 

“ You  know,”  said  the  abbe,  “ that  I was  the  secretary  and  inti- 
mate friend  of  Cardinal  Spada,  the  last  of  the  princes  of  that  name. 
I owe  to  this  worthy  lord  all  the  happiness  I ever  knew.  He  was 
not  rich,  although  the  wealth  of  his  family  had  passed  into  a prov- 
erb, and  I heard  the  phrase  very  often,  ‘ Rich  as  a Spada.’  But 
he,  like  public  rumor,  lived  on  this  reputation  for  wealth.  His 
palace  was  my  paradise.  I instructed  his  nephews,  who  are  dead  ; 
and  when  he  was  alone  in  the  world,  I returned  to  him,  by  an  ab- 
solute devotion  to  his  will,  all  he  had  done  for  me  during  ten  years. 
The  house  of  the  cardinal  had  no  secrets  for  me.  I had  often  seen 
my  noble  patron  annotating  ancient  volumes,  and  eagerly  search- 
ing amongst  dusty  family  manuscripts.  One  day  when  I was  re- 
proaching him  for  his  unavailing  searches,  and  the  prostration  that 
followed  them,  he  looked  at  me,  and,  smiling  bitterly,  opened  a 
volume  of  the  History  of  the  City  of  Rome.  There,  in  the  twen- 
tieth chapter  of  the  Life  of  Pope  Alexander  VI.,  were  the  following 
lines,  which  I can  never  forget : — 

“ ' The  great  wars  of  la  Romagna  had  ended  ; Caesar  Borgia, 
who  had  completed  his  conquest,  had  need  of  money  to  purchase 
all  Italy.  The  pope  had  also  need  of  money  to  conclude  with 
Louis,  the  twelfth  king  of  France,  formidable  still  in  spite  of  his 
recent  reverses  ; and  it  was  necessary,  therefore,  to  have  recourse 
to  some  profitable  speculation,  which  was  a matter  of  great  diffi- 
culty in  the  impoverished  condition  of  poor  exhausted  Italy.  His 
holiness  had  an  idea.  He  determined  to  make  two  cardinals.” 

“ The  pope  and  Caesar  Borgia  first  found  the  two  future  cardin- 
als ; they  were  Rospigliosi,  who  held  four  of  the  highest  dignities 
of  the  holy  seat ; and  Spada,  one  of  the  noblest  and  richest  of 
the  Roman  nobility  ; both  felt  the  high  honor  of  such  a favor 
from  the  pope.  They  were  ambitious  ; and,  Caesar  Borgia  soon 
found  purchasers  for  their  appointments.  The  result  was,  that 
Rospigliosi  and  Spada  paid  for  being  cardinals,  and  eight  other 
persons  paid  for  the  offices  the  cardinals  held  before  their  ele- 
vation, and  thus  eight  hundred  thousand  crowns  entered  into  the 
coffers  ©f  the  speculators* 


THE  COUNT  OE  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


63 

"It  is  time  now  to  proceed  to  the  last  part  of  the  speculation. 
The  pope  having  almost  smothered  Rospigliosi  and  Spada  with 
caresses,  having  bestowed  upon  them  the  insignia  of  cardinal, 
and  induced  them  to  realize  their  fortunes,  and  settle  at  Rome, 
he  and  Caesar  invited  the  two  cardinals  to  dinner. 

“ The  table  was  laid  in  a vineyard  belonging  to  the  pope,  neat 
San  Pietro,  outside  the  limits,  a charming  retreat  which  the  cardi- 
nals  knew  very  well  by  report.  Rospigliosi,  quite  giddy  with  his 
dignity,  prepared  his  appetite  and  assumed  his  best  looks.  Spada, 
a prudent  man,  and  greatly  attached  to  his  only  nephew,  a 
young  captain  of  highest  promise,  took  paper  and  pen  and  made 
his  will.  He  then  sent  to  his  nephew  to  await  him  in  the  vh 
cinity  of  the  vineyard  : but  it  appeared  the  servant  did  not  find 
him. 

“ Spada  set  out  about  two  o’clock  to  Saint-Peter’s.  The  pope 
awaited  him.  The  first  figure  that  struck  the  eyes  of  Spada  was 
his  nephew,  in  full  costume,  and  Caesar  Borgia  paying  him  most 
marked  attentions.  Spada  turned  pale,  as  Caesar  looked  at  him 
with  an  ironical  air,  which  proved  that  he  had  anticipated  all, 
and  that  the  snare  was  well  spread.  They  began  dinner,  and 
Spada  was  only  able  to  inquire  of  his  nephew  if  he  had  re- 
ceived his  message.  The  nephew  replied  no  ; perfectly  compre- 
hending the  meaning  of  the  question.  It  was  too  late,  for  he 
had  already  drunk  a glass  of  excellent  wine,  placed  for  him  ex- 
pressly by  the  papal  butler.  Spada  at  the  same  moment  saw 
another  bottle  approach  him,  which  he  was  pressed  to  taste. 
An  hour  afterwards  a physician  declared  they  were  both  poi- 
soned through  eating  mushrooms.  Spada  died  on  the  threshold 
of  the  vineyard  ; the  nephew  expired  at  his  own  door,  making 
signs  which  his  wife  could  not  comprehend. 

“ Then  Caesar  and  the  pope  hastened  to  lay  hands  on  the  prop- 
erty, under  pretense  of  seeking  for  the  papers  of  the  dead  man. 
But  the  inheritance  consisted  in  this  only,  a scrap  of  paper  on 
which  Spada  had  written : — * I bequeath  to  my  beloved  nephew 
my  coffers,  my  books,  amongst  other,  my  breviary  with  the  gold 
clasps,  which  I beg  he  will  preserve  in  remembrance  of  his  afv 
fectionate  uncle.’ 

" The  heirs  sought  everywhere,  admired  the  breviary,  laid  hand*; 
on  the  furniture,  and  were  greatly  astonished  that  Spada,  the  rich 
man,  was  really  the  most  miserable  of  uncles — no  treasures — unless 
of  science,  composed  in  the  library  and  laboratories.  This  waa 
all : Caesar  and  his  father  searched,  examined,  scrutinized,  but 
totsnd  nothing,  or  at  least  very  little  ; not  exceeding  a few  thou- 
sand crowns  in  plate,  and  about  the  same  in  ready  money , 
but  the  nephew  had  time  to  say  to  his  wife  before  he  had  ex- 
pired : — * Look  well  among  my  uncle’s  papers  ; there  is  a will.’ 

“ They  sought  even  more  thoroughly  than  the  august  heirs  had 
done,  but  it  was  fruitless.  Months  and  years  rolled  on.  Alexander 


64 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRlSTO. 


VI.  died  poisoned.  Caesar,  poisoned  at  the  same  time,  escaped 
after  sloughing  off  his  skin  like  a snake,  and  assumed  a new 
cuticle,  on  which  the  poison  left  spots,  like  those  we  see  on  a 
tiger;  then,  compelled  to  quit  Rome,  he  went  and  was  killed 
l himself  in  a night  skirmish,  scarcely  noticed  in  history.  After 
» the  pope’s  death  and  his  son’s  exile,  h was  supposed  the  Spada 
* family  would  again  make  the  splendid  figure  they  had  before  the 
cardinal’s  time  ; but  this  was  not  the  case.  The  Spadas  re* 
mained  in  doubtful  ease,  a mystery  hung  over  this  dark  affair, 
and  the  public  rumor  was,  that  Caesar,  a better  politician  than 
his  father,  had  carried  off  from  the  pope  the  fortune  of  the  two 
cardinals.  I say  the  two,  because  Cardinal  Rospigliosi,  who  had 
not  taken  any  precaution,  was  completely  despoiled. 

“ Up  to  this  time,”  said  Faria,  interrupting  the  thread  of  his  nar- 
rative, “ this  seems  to  you  very  ridiculous,  no  doubt,  eh  ? ” 

“ Oh,  my  friend,”  cried  Dantes,  “ oil  the  contrary,  it  seems  as 
:f  I were  reading  a most  interesting  narrative ; go  on,  I pray  of 
you.” 

“ The  family  began  to  feel  accustomed  to  this  obscurity.  Years 
rolled  on,  and  amongst  the  descendants  some  were  soldiers, 
others  diplomatists  ; churchmen,  bankers  ; some  grew  rich,  and 
some  were  ruined.  I come  now  to  the  last  of  the  family,  whose 
secretary  1 was — Count  Spada.  I had  often  heard  him  com- 
plain of  the  disproportion  of  his  rank  with  his  fortune  ; and  I 
advised  him  to  sink  all  he  had  in  an  annuity.  He  did  so,  and 
thus  doubled  his  income.  The  celebrated  breviary  remained  in 
the  family,  and  was  in  his  possession.  It  had  been  handed  down 
from  father  to  son  ; for  the  singular  clause  of  the  only  will  that  had 
been  found,  had  rendered  it  a relic,  preserved  in  the  family  with 
superstitious  veneration.  It  was  an  illuminated  book,  with  beauti- 
ful Gothic  characters,  and  so  weighty  with  gold  ornaments,  that  a 
servant  always  carried  it  before  the  cardinal  on  days  of  great  sol- 
emnity. 

“At  the  sight  of  papers  of  all  sorts, — titles,  contracts,  parch- 
ments, which  were  kept  in  the  archives  of  the  family,  ail  descend- 
ing from  the  poisoned  cardinal,  I,  like  twenty  servitors,  stewards, 
secretaries  before  me,  in  my  turn  examined  the  immense  bundles 
of  documents  ; but  in  spite  of  the  most  accurate  researches,  I 
found— nothing.  Yet  I had  read,  I had  even  written  a history 
of  the  Borgia  family,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  assuring  myself 
whether  any  increase  of  fortune  had  occurred  to  them  on  the 
death  of  the  Cardinal  Caesar  Spada  ; but  could  only  trace  the 
acquisition  of  the  property  of  the  Cardinal  Rospigliosi,  his  com- 
panion in  misfortune. 

“ I was  then  almost  assured  that  the  inheritance  had  neither 
profited  the  Borgias  nor  the  family,  but  had  remained  unpossessed 
like  the  treasures  of  the  Arabian  Nights,  which  slept  in  the  bosom 
of  the  earth  under  the  eyes  of  a genie.  I searched,  ransacked, 


THE  COUNT  OF  MO  ATE  CPUS  TO. 


65 


counted,  calculated  a thousand  and  a thousand  times  the  income 
and  expenditure  of  the  family  for  three  hundred  years.  It  was 
useless.  I remained  in  my  ignorance,  and  Spada  in  his  poverty. 
My  patron  died.  He  had  reserved  from  his  annuity  his  family 
papers,  his  library,  composed  of  five  thousand  volumes,  and  his 
famous  breviary.  All  these  he  bequeathed  to  me,  with  a thousand 
Roman  crowns,  which  he  had  in  ready  money , on  condition  that 
I would  have  said  anniversary  masses  for  the  repose  of  his  soui, 
and  that  I would  draw  up  a geneological  tree  and  history  of  his 
house.  All  this  I did  scrupulously. 

“ In  1807,  a month  before  I was  arrested,  and  fifteen  days  after 
the  death  of  Spada,  on  the  25th  of  December  (you  will  see  pres- 
ently how  the  date  became  fixed  in  my  memory),  I was  reading, 
for  the  thousandth  time,  the  papers  I was  arranging,  for  the  palace 
was  sold  to  a stranger,  and  I was  going  to  leave  Rome  and  settle 
at  Florence,  intending  to  take  with  me  twelve  thousand  francs  I 
possessed,  my  library,  and  famous  breviary,  when,  tired  with  my 
constant  iabor  at  the  same  thing,  and  overcome  by  a heavy  din- 
ner I had  eaten,  my  head  dropped  on  my  hands,  and  1 lell  asleep 
about  three  o’clock  in  the  afternoon.  I awoke  as  the  clock  was 
striking  six.  I raised  my  head  ; all  was  in  darkness.  I rang  for  a 
light,  but  as  no  one  came,  I determined  to  find  one  for  myself.  It 
was  indeed  the  habit  of  a philosopher  which  I should  soon  be  un- 
der the  necessity  of  adopting.  I took  a wax-candle  in  one  hand, 
and  with  the  other  groped  about  for  a piece  of  paper  (my  match- 
box being  empty),  with  which  I proposed  to  produce  a light  from 
the  small  flame  still  playing  on  the  embers.  Fearing,  however,  to 
make  use  of  any  valuable  piece  of  paper,  I hesitated  for  a mo- 
ment, then  recollected  that  I had  seen  in  the  famous  breviary, 
which  was  on  the  table  beside  me,  a slip  of  old  paper  quite  yellow 
with  age,  which  had  served  as  a marker  for  centuries,  kept  there 
by  the  request  of  the  heirs.  I felt  for  it,  found  it,  twisted  it  up  to- 
gether, and  putting  it  into  the  expiring  flame,  set  light  to  it. 

“ But  beneath  my  fingers,  as  if  by  magic,  in  proportion  as  the 
fire  ascended,  I saw  yellowish  characters  appear  on  the  paper.  I 
grasped  it  in  my  hand,  put  out  the  flame  as  quickly  as  I could, 
lighted  my  taper  in  the  fire  itself,  and  opened  the  crumpled  paper 
with  inexpressible  emotion,  recognizing,  when  I had  done  so,  that 
these  characters  had  been  traced  in  mysterious  and  sympathetic 
ink,  only  appearing  when  exposed  to  the  fire  : nearly  one-third  of 
the  paper  had  been  consumed  by  the  flame.  It  was  that  paper 
you  read  this  morning  ; read  it  again,  Dantes,  and  then  I 
will  complete  for  you  the  incomplete  words  and  unconnected 
sense.” 

Faria,  with  an  air  of  triumph,  offered  the  paper  to  Dantes,  who 
this  time  read  the  following  words,  traced  with  an  ink  of  color# 
which  most  nearly  resembled  rust ; 

5 


66 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO, 


“This  day,  the  25th  April,  1498,  invit 
Pope  Alessandro  VI.,  and  fearing  tha 
paid  for  the  cardinal’s  hat,  he  wi 
me  the  fate  of  Cardinals  Caprara  an 
I declare  to  my  exclusive  heir,  m 
buried  in  a spot  which  he  knows  fr 
er  words,  in  the  caves  of  Mont 
bullion  and  coin  and  jewels,  pre 
this  treasure’s  existence,  amount 
millions  of  Roman  crowns  ; it  wi 
eth  rock  starting  in  a straight  li 
caves  are  two  openings ; the  tre 
inmost — which  treasure  I leave  a 

25th  April,  1498. 

“And  now,”  said  the  abbe,  “ read  this  other  paper  and  h« 
presented  to  Dantes  a second  leaf  with  fragments  of  lines  on  it, 
which  Edmond  read  as  follows  : 

ed  to  dinner  by  his  Holiness  the 
t,  not  satisfied  with  my  having 
slies  to  be  my  heir  and  intends  for 
d Bentivoglio,  who  died  of  poison, 
y nephew  Guido  Spada,  that  I have 
om  having  visited  it  with  me,  in  oth- 
e Cristo  Islet,  all  my  property  in  gold 
cious  stones,  and  gems  ; I alone  know  of 
ing  to  the  value  of  upwards  of  two 
11  be  found  on  overturing  the  twenti- 
ne  from  the  East  Creek.  In  these 
asure  is  in  the  farthest  corner  of  the 
nd  give  unto  him  as  my  sole  heir. 

CESARO  f SPADA.” 

“And  now,”  he  said,  when  he  saw  Dantes  had  read  the  last 
line,  “ put  the  two  fragments  together,  and  judge  for  yourself.” 
Dantes  obeyed,  and  the  joined  pieces  gave  the  following  : 

“ This  day,  the  25th  April,  1498,  invited  to  dinner  by  his  HolD 
ness  the  Pope  Alessandro  VI.,  and  fearing  that,  not  satisfied  with 
my  having  paid  for  the  cardinal’s  hat,  he  wdshes  to  be  my  heir  and 
intends  for  me  the  fate  of  Cardinals  Caprara  and  Bentivoglio,  who 
died  of  poison,  I declare  to  my  exclusive  heir,  my  nephew  Guido 
Spada,  that  I have  buried  in  a spot  which  he  knows  from  having 
visited  it  with  me,  in  other  words,  in  the  caves  of  Monte  Cristo 
Islet,  all  my  property  in  gold  bullion  and  coin  and  jewels,  pre- 
cious stones,  and  gems  ; I alone  know  of  this  treasure’s  existence, 
amounting  to  the  value  of  upwards  of  two  millions  of  Roman 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRIS  TO. 


67 


crowns  ; it  will  be  found  on  overturning  the  twentieth  rock  start- 
ing in  a straight  line  from  the  East  Creek.  In  these  caves  are  two 
openings  : the  treasure  is  in  the  farthest  corner  of  the  inmost — 
which  treasure  I leave  and  give  unto  him  as  my  sole  heir. 

25th  April,  1498.  CESARO  f SPADA." 

44  Well,  do  you  comprehend  now  ? ” inquired  Faria. 

44  It  is  the  declaration  of  Cardinal  Spada,  and  the  will  so  long 
sought  for,”  replied  Edmond,  still  incredulous. 

44  Of  course  ; what  else  could  it  be  ? " “ And  who  completed 

it  as  it  now  is  ? ” 

41 1 did.  Aided  by  the  remaining  fragment,  I guessed  the  rest ; 
measuring  the  length  of  the  lines  by  those  of  the  paper,  and 
divining  the  hidden  meaning  by  means  of  what  was  in  part 
revealed,  as  we  are  guided  in  a cavern  by  the  small  ray  of  light 
above  us.” 

44  And  what  did  you  do  when  you  arrived  at  this  conclusion  ?” 

44 1 resolved  to  set  out,  and  did  set  out  that  very  instant,  carry*, 
ing  with  me  the  beginning  of  my  great  work  of  forming  Italy  into 
one  kingdom  ; but  for  some  time  the  infernal  police  (who  at  this 
period,  quite  contrary  to  what  Napoleon  desired  so  soon  as  he  had 
a son  born  to  him,  wished  for  a petition  of  provinces)  had  their 
eyes  on  me  ; and  my  hasty  departure,  the  cause  of  which  they 
were  unable  to  guess,  having  aroused  their  suspicions,  I was  ar- 
rested at  the  very  moment  I was  leaving  Piombino. 

44  Now,”  continued  Faria,  addressing  Dantes  with  an  almost 
paternal  expression,  44  now,  my  dear  fellow,  you  know  as  much  as 
I do  myself.  If  we  ever  escape  together,  half  this  treasure 
is  yours ; if  I die  here,  and  you  escape  alone,  the  whole  belongs 
to  you.” 

44  But,”  inquired  Dantes,  hesitating,  “has  this  treasure  no  more 
legitimate  possessor  in  this  world  than  ourselves?” 

44  No,  no,  be  easy  on  that  score  ; the  family  is  extinct.” 

44  This  treasure  belongs  to  you,  my  dear  friend,”  replied 
Dantes,  44  and  to  you  only.  I have  no  right  to  it.  I am  no  relation 
of  yours. M 

44  You  are  my  son,  Dantes,”  exclaimed  the  old  man.  44  You  are 
the  child  of  my  captivity.  My  profession  condemns  me  to 
celibacy.  God  has  sent  you  to  me  to  console,  at  one  and  the 
same  time,  the  man  who  could  not  be  a father  and  the  prisoner 
who  could  not  get  free.”  And  Faria  extended  the  arm  of  which 
alone  the  use  remained  to  him  to  the  young  man,  who  threw  him* 
«elf  on  his  neck  and  wept  bitterly. 


63 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  FATAL  ATTACK. 

Now  that  this  treasure,  which  had  so  long  been  the  object  of 
the  abbe’s  meditations,  could  insure  the  future  happiness  of  him 
whom  Faria  really  loved  as  a son,  it  had  doubled  its  value  in  his 
eyes,  and  every  day  he  expatiated  on  the  amount,  explaining  to 
Dant&s  all  the  good  which,  with  fifteen  millions  of  francs,  a man 
could  do  in  these  days  to  his  friends  ; and  then  Dantes,  counte- 
nance became  gloomy,  for  the  oath  of  vengeance  he  had  taken  re- 
curred to  his  memory,  and  he  reflected  how  much  ill,  in  these 
times,  a man  with  millions  could  do  to  his  enemies. 

The  abbe  did  not  know  the  isle  of  Monte-Cristo  ; but  Dantes 
knew  it,  and  had  often  passed  it,  situated  twenty-five  miles  from 
Pianosa,  between  Corsica  and  Elba,  and  had  once  touched  at  it. 
This  island  was,  always  had  been,  and  still  is,  completely  de- 
serted. It  is  a rock  of  almost  conical  form,  which  seems  as 
though  produced  by  some  volcanic  effort  from  the  depth  to  the 
surface  of  the  ocean.  Dantes  traced  a chart  of  the  island  to 
Faria,  and  Faria  gave  Dantes  advice  as  to  the  means  he  should 
employ  to  recover  the  treasure.  But  Dantes  was  far  from  being  as 
enthusiastic  and  confident  as  the  old  man.  It  was  past  a question 
now  that  Faria  was  not  a lunatic,  and  the  way  in  which  he  had 
achieved  the  discovery,  which  had  given  rise  to  the  suspicion  of 
his  madness,  increased  his  admiration  of  him  ; but  at  the  same 
time  he  could  not  believe  that  that  deposit,  supposing  it  had  ever 
existed,  still  existed  ; and  though  he  considered  the  treasure  as  by 
no  means  chimerical,  he  yet  believed  it  was  no  longer  there. 

Thus,  if  not  actually  happy,  yet  the  days  these  two  unfortunates 
passed  together  went  quickly.  Faria,  who  for  so  long  a time  had 
kept  silence  as  to  the  treasure,  now  perpetually  talked  of  it. 

Whole  hours  sometimes  passed  whilst  F aria  was  giving  instruc- 
tions to  Dant&s — instructions  which  were  to  serve  him  when  he 
was  at  liberty.  Then,  once  free,  from  the  day  and  hour  and 
moment  when  he  was  so,  he  could  have  but  one  only  thought, 
which  was,  to  gain  Monte-Cristo  by  some  means,  and  remain 
there  alone  under  some  pretext  which  would  give  no  suspicions  *3 
and  once  there,  to  endeavor  to  find  the  wonderful  caverns,  and 
search  in  the  appointed  spot. 

All  went  on  as  if  in  existences  in  which  mistortune  has  deranged 
nothing,  and  which  glide  on  mechanically  and  tranquilly  beneath 
the  eye  of  Providence. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  69 

One  night  Edmond  awoke  suddenly,  believing  he  heard  some 
one  calling  him. 

He  moved  his  bed,  drew  up  the  stone,  rushed  into  the  passage, 
and  reached  the  opposite  extremity  ; the  secret  entrance  was  open. 
By  the  light  of  the  wretched  and  wavering  lamp,  of  which  we 
have  spoken,  Dantes  saw  the  old  man,  pale,  but  yet  erect,  cling- 
ing to  the  bedstead.  His  features  were  writhing  with  those  hor- 
rible symptoms  which  he  already  knew,  and  which  had  so  seriously 
alarmed  him  when  he  saw  them  for  the  first  time. 

“ Alas!  my  dear  friend,”  said  Faria  in  a resigned  tone,  “ you 
understand,  do  you  not ; and  I need  not  attempt  to  explain  to 
you  ? 

“There  is  not  a hope,  but  no  matter,  God  wills  it  that 
man  whom  he  has  created,  and  in  whose  heart  He  has  so  pro- 
foundly rooted  the  love  of  life,  should  do  all  in  his  power  to  pre- 
serve that  existence,  which,  however  painful  it  may  be,  is  yet 
alway  so  dear.” 

“ Oh  ! yes,  yes  ! ” exclaimed  Dantes,  “and  I tell  you  you  shall 
yet  be  saved  ! ” 

“ Do  as  you  did  before,  only  do  not  wait  so  long.  All  the 
springs  of  life  are  now  exhausted  in  me,  and  death,”  he  continued, 
looking  at  his  paralyzed  arm  and  leg,  “ has  but  half  its  work  to  do. 
If,  after  having  made  me  swallow  twelve  drops  instead  of  ten,  you 
see  that  I do  not  recpver,  then  pour  the  rest  down  my  throat. 
Now  lift  me  on  my  bed,  for  I can  no  longer  support  myself.” 

Edmond  took  the  old  man  in  his  arms,  and  laid  him  on  the 
bed. 

“ And  now  my  dear  old  friend, " said  Faria,  “ sole  consolation 
of  my  wretched  existence, — I bless  thee  ! ” The  young  man  cast 
himself  on  his  knees,  leaning  his  head  against  the  old  man’s  bed. 

“ Listen,  now,  to  what  I say  in  this  my  dying  moment.  The  treas- 
ure of  the  Spadas  exists.  God  grants  me  that  I see  it  in  the  depths 
of  the  inner  cavern.  My  eyes  pierce  the  inmost  recesses  of  the 
earth,  and  are  dazzled  at  the  sight  of  so  much  riches.  If  you  do 
escape,  remember  that  the  poor  priest,  whom  all  the  world 
called  mad,  was  not  so.  Hasten  to  Monte-Cristo — avail  yourself 
of  the  fortune — for  you  have  indeed  suffered  long  enough. 
Your  hand,  Dantes f /vdieu  ! — adieu!”  And  raising  himself 
by  a final  effort,  in  which  he  summoned  all  his  faculties,  he  said— 
“ Monte-Cristo  ! forget  not  Monte-Cristo  ! ” And  he  fell  back  in 
his  bed.  The  crisis  was  terrible,  his  writhing  limbs,  his  swollen 
eyelids,  a foam  of  blood  and  froth  in  his  lips;  a frame  quite 
rigid,  was  soon  extended  on  this  bed  of  agony,  in  place  of  the  in* 
tellectual  being  there  but  so  lately. 

Dantes  took  the  lamp,  placed  it  on  a projecting  stone  above  the 
bed,  whence  its  tremulous  light  fell  with  strange  and  fantastic  ray 
on  this  discomposed  countenance  and  this  inert  and  stiffened 


7 o 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


body.  With  fixed  eyes  he  awaited  boldly  the  moment  for  adminis* 
tering  the  hoped-for  restorative. 

When  we  believed  the  instant  had  arrived,  he  took  the  knife, 
unclosed  the  teeth,  which  offered  less  resistance  than  before 
counted  one  after  the  other  twelve  drops,  and  watched , the  phiai 
contained,  perhaps,  twice  as  much  more.  He  waited  ten  minutes, 
a quarter  of  an  hour,  half  an  hour,  nothing  moved.  Trembling, 
his  hair  erect,  his  brow  bathed  with  perspiration  he  counted  the 
seconds  by  the  beatings  of  his  heart.  Then  he  thought  it  was 
time  to  make  the  last  trial,  and  he  put  the  phial  to  the  violet  lips  of 
Faria,  and  without  having  occasion  to  force  open  his  jaws,  which 
had  remained  extended,  he  poured  the  whole  of  the  liquid  down 
his  throat. 

The  draught  produced  a galvanic  effect,  a violent  trembling  per- 
vaded the  old  man’s  limbs,  his  eyes  opened  until  it  was  fearful  to 
gaze  upon  them,  he  heaved  a sigh  which  resembled  a shriek,  and 
then  all  this  vibrating  frame  returned  gradually  to  its  state  of  im- 
mobility, only  the  eyes  remained  open. 

Half  an  hour,  an  hour,  an  hour  and  a half  elapsed,  and  dur- 
ing this  time  of  anguish,  Dante  still  doubted  ; but  as  soon  as  the 
daylight  gained,  he  saw  that  he  was  alone  with  a corpse. 

It  was  time,  for  the  jailer  was  coming.  On  this  occasion  he  be- 
gan his  rounds  at  Dantes’  cell,  and  on  leaving  him  he  went  on  to 
Faria’s  dungeon,  where  he  was  taking  breakfast  and  some  linen. 
Nothing  betokened  that  the  man  knew  anything  of  what  had  oc- 
curred. He  went  on  his  way. 

Dantes  was  then  seized  with  an  indescribable  desire  to  know 
what  was  going  on  in  the  dungeon  of  his  unfortunate  friend.  He 
therefore  returned  by  the  subterraneous  gallery,  and  arrived  in 
time  to  hear  the  exclamations  of  the  turnkey,  who  called  out  for 
help.  Others  came,  and  then  was  heard  the  regular  tramp  of  sol- 
diers even  when  not  on  duty — behind  them  came  the  governor. 

Edmond  heard  the  noise  of  the  bed  in  which  they  were  moving 
the  corpse,  heard  the  voice  of  the  governor,  who  desired  them  to 
throw  water  on  the  face  ; and  seeing  that,  in  spite  of  this  applica- 
tion, the  prisoner  did  not  recover,  sent  for  the  doctor.  The  gov- 
ernor then  went  out,  and  some  words  of  pity  fell  on  Dantes  listen- 
ing ears,  mingled  with  brutal  laughter. 

Edmond  did  not  lose  a word,  but  comprehended  very  little  of 
what  was  said.  The  voices  soon  ceased,  and  it  seemed  to  him  as 
if  the  persons  had  all  left  the  cell.  Still  he  dared  not  to  enter,  as 
they  might  have  left  some  keeper  to  watch  the  dead.  He  re- 
mained, therefore,  mute  and  motionless,  restraining  even  his  res- 
piration. At  the  end  of  an  hour,  he  heard  a faint  noise,  which  in- 
creased. It  was  the  governor  who  returned,  followed  by  the  doc- 
tor and  other  attendants.  There  was  a moment’s  silence, — it  was 
evident  that  the  doctor  was  examining  the  dead  body.  The  in* 
quiries  soon  commenced. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


71 


The  doctor  analyzed  the  symptoms  of  the  malady  under  which 
the  prisoner  had  sunk,  and  declared  Ke  was  dead.  " He  is  really 
dead,”  said  the  doctor;  "this  burn  in  the  heel  is  decisive.  The 
poor  fool  is  cured  of  his  folly,  and  delivered  from  his  captivity.” 

" Wasn’t  his  name  Faria?”  inquired  one  of  the  officers  who 
accompanied  the  governor. 

" Yes,  sir  ; and,  as  he  said,  it  was  an  ancient  name.  He  was, 
too,  very  learned,  and  rational  enough  on  all  points  which  did  not 
relate  to  his  treasure  ; but  on  that,  indeed,  he  was  obstinate.” 

"It  is  the  malady  we  call  monomania,”  said  the  doctor. 

"You  had  never  anything  to  complain  of?”  said  the  governor 
to  the  jailer  who  had  charge  of  the  abbe. 

"Never,  sir,”  replied  the  jailer,  "never;  on  the  contrary,  he 
sometimes  amused  me  very  much  by  telling  me  stories.  One  day, 
too,  when  my  wife  was  ill,  he  gave  me  a prescription  which  cured 
her.” 

" Ah,  ah  ! ” said  the  doctor,  " I was  ignorant  that  I had  a com- 
petitor ; but  I hope,  M.  Governor,  that  you  will  show  him  all 
proper  respect  in  consequence.” 

" Yes,  yes,  make  your  mind  easy  ; he  shall  be  decently  interred 
in  the  newest  sack  we  can  find.  Will  that  satisfy  you  ? ” 

" Must  we  do  this  last  formality  in  your  presence,  sir  ? ” inquired 
a turnkey. 

" Certainly.  But  make  haste — I cannot  stay  here  all  day.” 
"This  evening,”  said  the  governor,  when  the  task  was  ended. 

"At  what  o’clock?  ” inquired  a turnkey. "Why,  about  ten 

or  eleven  o’clock.” 

" Shall  we  watch  by  the  corpse?  ” " Of  what  use  would  it 

be?  Lock  the  dungeon  as  if  he  were  alive — that  is  all.”  Then 
the  steps  retreated,  and  the  voices  died  away  in  the  distance  ; 
the  noise  of  the  door,  with  its  creaking  hinges  and  bolts,  ceased, 
and  a silence  duller  than  any  solitude  ensued — the  silence  ol 
death,  which  pervaded  all,  and  struck  its  icy  chill  through  the 
young  man’s  whole  frame.  Then  he  raised  the  flag-stone  cau- 
tiously with  his  head,  and  looked  carefully  round  the  chamber.  Il 
was  empty  ; and  Dantes,  quitting  the  passage,  entered  it. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  PRISON  CEMETERY. 

On  the  bed,  at  full  length,  and  faintly  lighted  by  the  pale  ray 
that  penetrated  the  window,  was  visible  a sack  of  coarse  cloth, 
under  the  large  folds  of  which  were  stretched  a long  and  stiffened 
form;  it  was  Faria’s  last  winding-sheet — a winding-sheet  which, 
as  the  turnkey  said,  cost  so  little.  All,  then,  was  oompleted* 


72 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


The  idea  of  suicide,  driven  away  by  his  friend,  and  forgotten  in 
his  presence  whilst  living,  arose  like  a phantom  before  him  in 
presence  of  his  dead  body. 

“ If  I could  die,**  he  said,  “ I should  go  where  he  goes,  and 
should  assuredly  find  him  again.  No,  I desire  to  live  ; I desire 
to  struggle  to  the  very  last  ; I wish  to  reconquer  the  happiness 
of  which  I have  been  deprived.  Before  I die  I must  not  forget 
that  I have  my  executioners  to  punish,  and  perhaps  too,  who 
knows,  some  friends  to  reward.  Yet  they  will  forget  me  here,  and 
I shall  die  in  my  dungeon  like  Faria.”  As  he  said  this,  he  re« 
mained  motionless,  his  eyes  fixed  like  a man  struck  with  a sud« 
dea  idea,  but  whom  this  idea  fills  with  amazement.  Suddenly  , 
he  rose,  lifted  his  hand  to  his  brow  as  if  his  brain  were  giddy,  ( 
paced  twice  or  thrice  round  his  chamber,  and  then  paused  ab- 
ruptly at  the  bed. 

“Ah  ! ” he  muttered,  “ who  inspires  me  with  this  thought?  Is 
that  thou,  gracious  God?  Since  none  but  the  dead  pass  freely 
from  this  dungeon,  let  me  assume  the  place  of  the  dead!” 
Without  giving  himself  time  to  re-consider  his  decision,  and,  in^ 
deed,  that  he  might  not  allow  his  thoughts  to  be  distracted  from 
his  desperate  resolution,  he  bent  over  the  appalling  sack,  opened 
it  with  the  knife  which  Faria  had  made,  drew  the  corpse  from 
the  sack,  and  transported  it  along  the  gallery  to  his  own  chamber, 
laid  it  on  his  couch,  passed  round  its  head  the  rag  he  wore  at  night 
round  his  own,  covered  it  with  his  counterpane,  once  again  kissed 
the  ice-cold  brow,  and  tried  vainly  to  close  the  resisting  eyes, 
which  glared  horribly  ; turned  the  head  toward  the  wall,  so  that 
the  jailer  might,  when  he  brought  his  evening  meal,  believe  that 
he  was  asleep,  as  was  his  frequent  custom  ; returned  along  the 
gallery,  threw  the  bed  against  the  wall,  returned  to  the  other  cell, 
took  from  the  hiding-place  the  needle  and  thread,  flung  off  his 
rags,  that  they  might  feel  naked  flesh  only  beneath  the  coarse 
sackcloth,  and  getting  inside  the  sack,  placed  himself  in  the  post- 
ure in  which  the  dead  body  had  been  laid,  and  sewed  up  the 
mouth  of  the  sack  withinside. 

The  beating  of  his  heart  might  have  been  heard,  if  by  any 
mischance  the  keepers  had  entered  at  that  moment.  Dantes  might 
have  waited  until  the  evening  visit  was  over,  but  he  was  afraid  the 
governor  might  change  his  resolution,  and  order  the  dead  body  to 
be  removed  earlier.  In  that  case  his  last  hope  would  have  been 
destroyed.  Now  his  project  was  settled  under  any  circumstances, 
and  he  hoped  thus  to  carry  it  into  effect.  If  during  the  time  he 
was  being  conveyed  the  grave-diggers  should  discover  that  they 
were  conveying  a live  instead  of  a dead  body,  Dantes  did  not  in- 
tend to  give  them  time  to  recognize  him,  but  with  a suddeir  cut  of 
the  knife,  he  meant  to  open  the  sack  from  top  to  bottom,  and, 
profiting  by  their  alarm,  escape  ; if  they  tried  to  catch  him,  he 
would  use  his  knife. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


7 3 


If  they  conducted  him  to  the  cemetery  and  laid  him  in  the  grave, 
he  would  allow  himself  to  be  covered  with  earth,  and  then,  as  it 
was  night,  the  grave-diggers  could  scarcely  have  turned  their 
backs,  ere  he  would  have  worked  his  way  through  the  soft  soil  and 
escape,  hoping  that  the  weight  would  not  be  too  heavy  for  him  to 
support.  If  he  was  deceived  in  this,  and  the  earth  proved  too 
heavy,  he  would  be  stifled,  and  then,  so  much  the  better,  all  would 
be  over.  Dantes  had  not  eaten  since  the  previous  evening,  but  he 
had  not  thought  of  hunger  or  thirst,  nor  did  he  now  think  of  it. 
,His  position  was  too  precarious  to  allow  him  even  time  to  reflect 
on  any  thought  but  one. 

The  first  risk  that  Dantes  ran  was,  that  the  warden,  when  he 
brought  him  his  supper  at  seven  o’clock,  might  preceive  the  sub- 
stitution he  had  effected  ; fortunately,  twenty  times  at  least,  from 
misanthropy  or  fatigue,  Dantes  had  received  his  jailer  in  bed,  and 
then  the  man  placed  his  bread  and  soup  on  the  table,  and  went 
away  without  saying  a word.  This  time  the  jailer  might  not  be 
silent  as  usual,  but  speak  to  Dantes,  and  seeing  that  he  received 
no  reply,  go  to  the  bed,  and  thus  discover  all. 

When  seven  o’clock  came,  Dantes’  agony  really  commenced. 
His  hand  placed  upon  his  heart  was  unable  to  press  its  throbbings, 
whilst,  with  the  other,  he  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  temples. 
From  time  to  time  6hudderings  ran  through  his  whole  frame,  and 
collapsed  his  heart  as  if  it  were  frozen.  Then  he  thought  he  was 
going  to  die.  Yet  the  hours  passed  on  without  any  stir,  and  Dantes 
felt  he  had  escaped  this  first  danger  : it  was  a good  augury.  At 
length,  about  the  hour  the  governor  had  appointed,  footsteps  were 
heard  on  the  stairs.  Edmond  felt  that  the  moment  had  arrived, 
and  summoning  up  all  his  courage,  held  his  breath,  happy  if  at  the 
same  time  he  could  have  repressed  in  like  manner  the  hasty  pulsa- 
tion of  his  arteries.  They  stopped  at  the  door — there  were  two 
steps,  and  Dantes  guessed  it  was  the  two  grave-diggers  who  came 
to  seek  him — this  idea  was  soon  converted  into  certainty,  when  he 
heard  the  noise  they  made  in  putting  down  the  hand-bier.  The 
door  opened,  and  a dim  light  reached  Dantes’  eyes  through  the 
coarse  sack  that  covered  him  ; he  saw  two  shadows  approach  his 
bed,  a third  remaining  at  the  door  with  a torch  in  his  hand.  Each 
of  these  two  men,  approaching  the  ends  of  the  bed,  took  the  sack 
by  its  extremities. 

" He’s  heavy  though  for  a thin  old  man,”  said  one,  as  he  raised 
the  head. 

41  They  say  every  year  adds  half  a pound  to  the  weight  of  the 
bones,”  said  another,  lifting  the  feet. 

“ Have  you  tied  the  knot  ? ” inquired  the  first  speaker. 

44  What  would  be  the  use  of  carrying  so  much  more  weight?’* 
was  the  reply  ; 44 1 can  do  that  when  we  get  there.” 

44  Yes,  you’re  right,”  replied  the  companion. 

44  What’s  the  knot  for?  ” thought  Dant&s. 


74 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


The  deposited  the  supposed  corpse  on  the  bier.  Edmoj^y  • 
fened  himself  in  order  to  play  his  part  of  a dead  man,  andthe^ffte 
party,  lighted  by  the  man  with  the  torch,  who  went  first,  ascended 
the  stairs.  Suddenly  he  felt  the  fresh  and  sharp  night  air,  and 
Dantes  recognized  the  Mistral . It  was  a sudden  sensation,  at  the 
same  time  replete  with  delight  and  agony.  The  bearers  advanced 
twenty  paces,  then  stopped,  putting  their  litter  down  on  the 
/ground.  One  of  them  went  away,  and  Dantes  heard  his  shoes  on 
|the  pavement. 

“ Where  am  I then?"  he  asked  himself. 

“Really,  he  is  by  no  means  a light  load!"  said  the  other 
bearer,  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  hand-barrow.  Dantes’  first  im- 
pulse was  to  escape,  but  fortunately  he  did  not  attempt  it. 

“ Light  me,  you  sir,"  said  the  other  bearer,  “ or  I shall  not  find 
what  I am  looking  for."  The  man  with  the  torch  complied, 
although  not  asked  in  the  most  polite  terms. 

“ What  can  he  be  looking  for?  " thought  Edmond.  “The  spade, 
perhaps."  An  exclamation  of  satisfaction  indicated  that  the  grave- 
digger had  found  the  object  of  his  search.  “ Here  it  is  at  last," 
he  said,  “ not  without  some  trouble  though." 

“ Yes,"  was  the  answer,  “ but  it  has  lost  nothing  by  waiting." 

As  he  said  this,  the  man  came  towards  Edmond,  who  heard  a 
heavy  and  sounding  substance  laid  down  beside  him,  and  at  the 
same  moment  a cord  was  fastened  round  his  feet  with  sudden  and 
painful  violence. 

“Well,  have  you  tied  the  knot?"  inquired  the  grave-digger, 
who  was  looking  on.  “ Yes,  and  pretty  tight  too,  I can  tell  you," 
was  the  answer. 

“ Move  on,  then."  And  the  bier  was  lifted  once  more,  and 
they  proceeded. 

They  advanced  fifty  paces  farther,  and  then  stopped  to  open  a 
door,  then  went  forward  again.  The  noise  of  the  waves  dashing 
against  the  rocks  on  which  the  castle  is  built,  reached  Dantes’  ear 
distinctly  as  they  progressed. 

“ Bad  weather ! " observed  one  of  the  bearers  ; “ not  a pleasant 
night  for  a dip  in  the  sea." 

“Why,  yes,  the  priest  runs  a chance  of  being  baptised,"  said 
the  other  ; and  then  there  was  a burst  of  brutal  laughter.  Dant&§ 
did  not  comprehend  the  jest,  but  his  hair  stood  erect  on  his  head. 

“ Well,  here  we  are  at  last,"  said  one  of  them  ; “ a little  far- 
ther— a little  farther,"  said  the  other.  “You  know  very  well  that 
the  last  was  stopped  on  his  way,  dashed  on  the  rocks,  andthegov* 
ernor  told  us  next  day  that  we  were  careless  fellows." 

They  ascended  five  or  six  more  steps,  and  then  Dantes  felt  that 
they  took  him  one  by  the  head  and  the  other  by  the  heels,  and 
swung  him  to  and  fro.  “ One  ! " said  the  grave-diggers,  “ two  l 
three,  and  away  ! " And  at  the  same  instant  Dantes  felt  himself 
flung  into  the  air  like  a wounded  bird  falling,  falling  with  a rapidif* 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


75 


that  made  his  blood  curdle.  Although  drawn  downwards  by  the 
same  heavy  weight  which  hastened  his  rapid  descent,  it  seemed  to 
him  as  if  the  time  were  a century.  At  last,  with  a terrific  dash,  he 
entered  the  ice-cold  water,  and  as  he  did  so  he  uttered  a shrill  cry, 
stifled  in  a moment  by  his  immersion  beneath  the  waves. 

Dantes  had  been  flung  into  the  sea,  into  whose  depths  he  was 
dragged  by  a thirty-six  pound  ball  tied  to  his  feet.  The  sea  is  the 
cemetery  of  If  Castle. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

RESCUED. 

Dantes,  although  giddy  and  almost  suffocated,  had  yet  suffi- 
cient presence  of  mind  to  hold  his  breath ; and  as  his  right  hand 
(prepared  as  he  was  for  every  chance)  held  his  knife  open,  he 
rapidly  ripped  up  the  sack,  extricated  his  arm,  and  then  his  body  ; 
but  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts  to  free  himself  from  the  bullet,  he  felt 
it  dragging  him  down  still  lower.  He  then  bent  his  body,  and  by 
a desperate  effort  severed  the  cord  that  bound  his  legs,  at  the 
moment  he  was  suffocating.  With  a vigorous  spring  he  rose  to 
the  surface  of  the  sea,  whilst  the  bullet  bore^to  its  depths  the  sack 
that  had  so  nearly  become  his  shroud. 

Dantes  merely  paused  to  breathe,  and  then  dived  again,  in  order 
to  avoid  being  seen.  When  he  arose  a second  time,  he  was  fifty 
paces  from  where  he  had  first  sunk.  Behind  him,  blacker  than 
the  sea,  blacker  than  the  sky,  rose,  like  a phantom,  the  giant  of 
granite,  whose  projecting  crags  seemed  like  arms  extended  to  seize 
their  prey  ; and  on  the  highest  rock  was  a torch  that  lighted  two 
figures.  He  fancied  these  two  forms  were  looking  at  the  sea ; 
doubtless  these  strange  undertakers  had  heard  his  cry.  Dant&s 
dived  again,  and  remained  a long  time  beneath  the  water.  When 
he  reappeared  the  light  had  disappeared. 

It  was  necessary  to  strike  out  to  sea. 

Suddenly  the  sky  seemed  to  him  to  become  still  darker  and 
more  dense,  and  compact  clouds  lowered  towards  him  ; at  the 
same  time  he  felt  a violent  pain  in  his  knee.  His  imagination  told 
him  a ball  had  struck  him,  and  that  in  a moment  he  would  hear 
the  report  ; but  he  heard  nothing,  Dantes  put  out  his  hand,  and 
felt  resistance  ; he  then  extended  his  leg,  and  felt  the  land,  and  in 
an  instant  guessed  the  nature  of  the  object  he  had  taken  for  a 
cloud. 

Before  him  rose  a mass  of  strangely-formed  rocks,  that  resem- 
bled nothing  so  much  as  a vast  fire  petrified  at  the  moment  of  its 
most  fervent  combustion.  It  was  the  isle  of  Tiboulen. 

An  overhanging  rock  offered  him  a temporary  shelter,  and 


76 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


scarcely  bad  be  availed  himself  of  it  when  the  tempest  burst  forth 
in  all  its  fury, 

A flash  of  lightning,  as  if  the  whole  of  the  heavens  were  opened, 
illumined  the  darkness.  By  its  light,  between  the  isle  of  Lemaire 
and  Cape  Croiselle,  a half  mile  distant,  Dantes  saw,  like  a spectre, 
a fishing-boat  driven  rapidly  on  by  the  force  of  the  winds  and 
waves.  A second  after,  he  saw  it  again,  approaching  nearer. 
Dantes  cried  at  the  top  of  his  voice  to  warn  them  of  their  danger, 
but  the  crew  saw  it  themselves.  At  the  same  moment  a violent 
crash  was  heard,  and  cries  of  distress.  Perched  on  the  summit  of 
the  rock,  Dantes  saw,  by  the  lightning,  the  vessel  in  pieces  ; and 
amongst  the  fragments  were  visible  the  agonized  features  of  the 
unhappy  sailors.  Then  all  became  dark  again. 

Dantes  ran  down  the  rocks  at  the  risk  of  being  himself  dashed 
to  pieces  ; he  listened,  he  strove  to  examine,  but  he  heard  and  saw 
nothing — all  human  cries  hgd  ceased,  and  the  tempest  alone  con- 
tinued to  rage.  By  degrees  the  wind  abated,  vast  grey  clouds 
rolled  toward  the  west,  and  the  blue  firmament  appeared  studded 
with  bright  stars.  Soon  a red  streak  became  visible  in  the  horizon, 
the  waves  whitened,  a light  played  over  them,  and  gilded  their 
foaming  crests  with  gold.  It  was  day. 

Dantes  stood  silent  and  motionless  before  this  vast  spectacle, 
for  since  his  captivity  he  had  forgotten  it.  He  turned  towards  the 
fortress,  and  looked  both  at  the  sea  and  the  land.  The  gloomy 
building  rose  from  the  bosom  of  the  ocean  with  that  imposing 
majesty  of  inanimate  objects  which  seems  to  watch  and  to  com- 
mand. It  was  about  five  o’clock.  The  sea  continued  to  grow 
calmer. 

He  saw  appear,  at  the  extremity  of  the  isle  of  Poi4;^gue,  like  a 
bird  skimming  over  the  sea,  a small  bark,  that  the  .eye  of  a sailor 
alone  could  recognize  as  a Genoese  tartane.  She  was  coming  out 
of  Marseilles  harbor,  and  was  standing  out  to  sea  rapidly,  her 
sharp  prow  cleaving  through  the  waves.  “ Oh  ! ” cried  Edmond, 
“ to  think  that  in  half  an  hour  I could  join  her,  did  I not  fear  be- 
ing questioned,  detected,  and  conveyed  back  to  Marseilles  ! What 
can  I do?  What  story  can  I invent?  Under  pretext  of  trading 
along  the  coast,  these  men,  who  are  in  reality  smugglers,  will  pre- 
fer selling  me  to  doing  a good  action.  I must  wait.  But  I cannot 
— I am  starving.  In  a few  hours  my  strength  will  be  utterly  ex- 
hausted : besides,  perhaps  I have  not  been  missed  at  the  fortress. 
I can  pass  as  one  of  the  sailors  wrecked  last  night.  This  story 
will  pass  current,  for  there  is  no  one  left  to  contradict  me.” 

As  he  spoke,  Dantes  looked  towards  the  spot  where  the  fishing- 
vessel  had  been  wrecked,  and  started.  The  red  cap  of  one  of  the 
sailors  hung  to  a point  of  the  rock,  and  some  beams  that  had 
formed  part  of  the  vessels’s  keel,  floated  at  the  foot  of  the  crags. 
In  an  instant  Dantes’  plan  was  formed.  He  swam  to  the  cap, 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  77 

placed  it  on  his  head,  seized  one  of  the  beams,  and  struck  out  so 
as  to  cross  the  line  the  vessel  was  taking. 

11 1 am  saved!  ” murmured  he.  And  this  conviction  restored  his 
strength. 

He  soon  perceived  the  vessel,  which,  having  the  wind  right 
ahead,  was  tacking  between  If  Castle  and  the  tower  of  Planier. 
For  an  instant  he  feared  lest  the  bark,  instead  of  keeping  in  shore, 
should  stand  out  to  sea  ; but  he  soon  saw  by  her  manoeuvres  that 
she  wished  to  pass,  like  most  vessels  bound  for  Italy,  between  the 
islands  of  Jaros  and  Calaseraigne.  However,  the  vessel  and  the 
swimmer  insensibly  neared  one  another,  and  in  one  of  its  tacks  the 
bark  approached  within  a quarter  of  a mile  of  him.  He  rose  on 
the  waves,  making  signs  of  distress  ; but  no  one  on  board  per- 
ceived him,  and  the  vessel  stood  on  another  tack.  Dantes  would 
have  cried  out,  but  he  reflected  that  the  wind  would  drown  his 
voice. 

It  was  then  he  rejoiced  at  his  precaution  in  taking  the  beam,  for 
w'thout  it  he  would  have  been  unable,  perhaps,  to  reach  the  vessel 
— certainly  to  return  to  shore,  sno^ld  he  be  unsuccessful  in  at- 
tracting attention. 

Dantes,  although  almost  sure  as  to  what  course  the  bark  would 
take,  had  yet  watched  it  anxiously  until  it  tacked  and  stood  to- 
ward him.  Then  he  advanced  ; but  before  they  had  met,  the 
vessel  again  changed  her  direction.  By  a violent  effort  he  rose 
half  out  of  the  water,  waving  his  cap  and  uttering  a loud  hail. 
This  time  he  was  both  seen  and  heard,  and  the  tartane  instantly 
steered  toward  him.  At  the  same  time,  he  saw  thev  were  about 
to  lower  the  boat. 

An  instant  after,  the  boat,  rowed  by  two  men,  advanced  rapidly 
toward  him.  Dantes  abandoned  the  beam,  which  he  thought 
now  useless,  and  swam  vigorously  to  meet  them.  But  he  had 
reckoned  too  much  upon  his  strength,  and  then  he  felt  how  serv- 
iceable the  beam  had  been  to  him.  His  arms  grew  stiff,  his  legs 
had  lost  their  flexibility,  and  he  was  almost  breathless. 

He  uttered  a second  cry.  The  two  sailors  redoubled  their  efforts, 
and  one  of  them  cried  in  Italian,  “ Courage  ! ” 

The  word  reached  his  ear  as  a wave  which  he  no  longer  had 
the  strength  to  surmount  passed  over  his  head.  He  rose  again  to 
the  surface,  supporting  himself  by  one  of  those  desperate  efforts  a 
drowning  man  makes,  uttered  a third  cry,  and  felt  himself  sink 
again,  as  if  the  fatal  bullet  were  again  tied  to  his  feet.  The  water 
passed  over  his  head,  and  the  sky  seemed  livid.  A violent  effort 
again  brought  him  to  the  surface.  He  felt  as  if  something  seized 
him  by  the  hair,  but  he  saw  and  heard  nothing.  He  had  fainted. 

When  he  opened  his  eyes,  Dantes  found  himself  on  the  deck  of 
the  tartane. 

41  Who  aie  you  ? ” said  the  pilot,  in  bad  French. 

14 1 am,.'  replied  Dantes,  in  bad  Italian,  “ a Maltese  sailor*  We 


;8 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


were  Coming  from  Syracuse  laden  with  grain.  The  storm  of  last 
night  overtook  us  at  Cape  Morgion,  and  we  were  wrecked  on  these 
rocks,  to  which  I had  the  good  luck  to  cling  while  our  captain  and 
the  rest  were  all  lost.  I saw  your  craft,  and  fearful  of  being  left 
to  perish  on  the  desolate  island,  I swam  off  on  a fragment  of  the 
vessel  in  order  to  try  and  gain  your  bark.  You  have  saved  my 
life,  and  I thank  you,”  continued  Dantes.  44  I was  lost  when  one 
of  your  sailors  caught  hold  of  my  hair.” 

41  It  was  I,”  said  a sailor  of  a frank  appearance  ; “and  it  was 
time,  for  you  were  sinking.” 

“Yes,”  returned  Dantes,  holding  out  his  hand,  44 1 thank  you 
again.” 

41 1 almost  hesitated  though,”  replied  the  sailor  ; 44  you  looked 
more  like  a brigand  than  an  honest  man,  with  your  beard  six 
inches  and  your  hair  a foot  long.”  Dantes  recollected  that  his 
hair  and  beard  had  not  been  cut  all  the  time  he  was  in  jail. 

44  Yes,”  said  he,  44  I made  a vow  to  our  Lady  of  the  Grotto,  in  a 
moment  of  danger,  not  to  cut  my  hair  or  beard  for  ten  years ; but 
to-day  the  vow  expires.” 

44  Now  what  are  we  to  do  with  you?  ” said  the  captain. 

44 Alas!  anything  you  please.  My  captain  is  dead;  I have 
barely  escaped  ; but  I am  a good  sailor.” 

44  I say,  captain,”  said  the  sailor  who  had  cried  44  Courage  ! ” 
to  Dantes,  44 if  what  he  says  is  true,  what  hinders  his  staying  with 
us  ? ” 

44  If  he  says  true,”  said  the  captain,  44  we  can  agree  very  well, 
if  you  are  reasonable.” 

44  Give  me  what  you  give  the  others,  and  all  will  be  arranged,” 
returned  Dantes. 

Jacopo  dived  into  the  hold  and  returned  with  what  Edmond 
wanted. 

44  Now,  then,  do  you  wish  for  anything  else  ? ” said  the  patron. 

44  A piece  of  bread  and  another  glass  of  the  capital  rum  I tasted, 
for  I have  not  eaten  or  drunk  for  a long  time.”  He  had  not 
tasted  food  for  forty  hours.  • A piece  of  bread  was  brought,  and 
Jacopo  offered  him  the  gourd. 

44  Larboard  your  helm,”  cried  the  captain  to  the  steersman. 
Dantes  glanced  to  the  same  side  as  he  lifted  the  gourd  to  his 
mouth  ; but  his  hand  stopped. 

44  Halloa  ! what’s  the  matter  at  If  Castle?  ” said  the  captain. 

A small  white  cloud  which  had  attracted  Dantes  attention, 
crowned  the  summit  of  the  bastion.  At  the  same  moment  the 
faint  report  of  a gun  was  heard.  The  sailors  looked  at  one  an- 
other. 

44  What  is  this  ? ” asked  the  captain. 

44  A prisoner  has  escaped  from  the  Castle  If ; and  they  are  firing 
the  alarm  gun,”  replied  Dant£s«  The  captain  glanced  at  him ; 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


79 


but  he  had  lifted  the  rum  to  his  lips,  and  was  drinking  with  so 
much  composure,  that  his  suspicions,  if  he  had  any,  died  away. 

“ At  any  rate,”  murmured  he,  “ if  it  be,  so  much  the  better,  for 
I have  made  a rare  acquisition.”  Under  pretense  of  being  fa- 
tigued, Dantes  asked  to  take  the  helm ; the  steersman,  enchanted 
to  be  relieved,  looked  at  the  captain,  and  the  latter  by  a sign  in- 
dicated that  he  might  abandon  it  to  his  new  messmate.  Dantes 
could  thus  keep  his  eyes  on  Marseilles. 

“ What  is  the  day  of  the  month  ? ” asked  he  of  Jacopo,  who  sat 
down  beside  him. 

451  The  28th  of  February  ! ” 

•*  In  what  year?  ” 

0 You  have  forgotten  ? *' 

“ I have  been  so  frightened  last  night,  replied  Dantes,  smiling, 
that  I have  almost  lost  my  memory.  I ask  you  what  year  is  it  ? ” 
“The  year  1829,”  returned  Jacopo. 

It  was  fourteen  years  day  for  day  since  Dantes’  arrest.  He  was 
nineteen  when  he  entered  If;  thirty-three  when  he  escaped.  A 
sorrowful  smile  passed  over  his  face  ; he  asked  himself  what  had 
become  of  Mercedes,  who  must  believe  him  dead.  Then  his  eyes 
lighted  up  with  hatred  as  he  thought  of  the  three  men  who  had 
caused  him  so  long  and  wretched  a captivity.  He  renewed 
against  Danglars,  Fernand,  and  Villefort  the  oath  of  implacable 
vengeance  he  had  made  in  his  dungeon.  This  oath  was  no  longer 
a vain  menace  ; for  the  fastest  sailor  in  the  Mediterranean  would 
have  been  unable  to  overtake  the  little  tartane,  with  every  stitch 
of  canvas  set,  flying  before  the  wind  to  Leghorn. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  SMUCGLERS, 

DANTES  had  not  been  a day  on  board  before  he  had  an  insight 
into  the  persons  with  whom  he  sailed.  Dantes  was  on  board  a 
smuggling  lugger. 

In  the  first  instance  the  master  had  received  Dantes  on  board 
with  a certain  degree  of  mistrust.  When  he  saw  the  light  smoke 
floating  like  a plume  above  the  Castle  and  heard  the  distant  ex- 
plosion, he  was  instantly  struck  with  the  idea  that  he  had  on 
board  his  vessel  one  for  whom,  like  the  goings  in  and  comings  out 
of  kings,  they  accord  salutes  of  cannons.  This  made  him  less  urn 
easy,  it  must  be  owned,  than  if  the  new-comer  had  proved  a cus- 
tom-house officer  ; but  this  latter  supposition  also  disappeared  like 
the  first,  when  he  beheld  the  perfect  tranquillity  of  his  recruit. 

Edmond  thus  had  the  advantage  of  knowing  what  the  owner 
was,  without  the  owner  knowing  who  he  was  ; and  however  the 


8o 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


old  sailor  arid  Ms  crew  tried  to  **  pump  " him,  they  extracted  noth* 
ing  more  from  him. 

It  was  thus,  in  this  reciprocal  position,  that  they  reached  Leg- 
horn. Here  Edmond  was  to  undergo  another  trial ; it  was  to  see 
if  he  should  recognize  himself,  never  having  beheld  his  own  feat- 
ures for  fourteen  years.  He  had  preserved  a tolerably  good  re- 
membrance of  what  the  youth  had  been,  and  was  now  to  find 
what  the  man  had  become.  His  comrades  believed  that  his  vow 
was  fulfilled,  as  he  had  twenty  times  touched  at  Leghorn  before  he 
remembered  a barber  in  the  Rue  Saint-F erdinand  ; he  went  there 
to  have  his  beard  and  hair  cut. 

When  the  operation  was  concluded,  when  Edmond  felt  his  chin 
was  completely  smooth,  and  his  hair  reduced  to  its  usual  length, 
he  requested  a looking-glass  in  which  he  might  see  himself.  He 
was  now,  as  we  have  said,  three-and-thirty  years  of  age,  and  his 
fourteen  years’  imprisonment  had  produced  a great  moral  change 
in  hi«s  appearance. 

To  the  elegance  of  a nervous  and  slight  form  had  succeeded  the 
solidity  of  a rounded  and  muscular  figure.  As  to  his  voice, 
prayers,  sobs,  and  imprecations  had  changed  it  now  into  a soft 
and  singularly  touching  tone,  and  now  into  a sound  rude  and  al- 
most hoarse.  Moreover,  being  perpetually  in  twilight  or  darkness, 
his  eyes  had  acquired  that  singular  faculty  of  distinguishing  ob- 
jects in  the  night  common  to  the  hyena  and  the  wolf.  Edmond 
smiled  when  he  beheld  himself : it  was  impossible  that  his  best 
friend — if?  indeed,  he  had  any  friend  left — could  recognize  him  ; 
he  could  not  recognize  himself. 

The  master  of  La  Jeune  Amelie,  \ ho  was  very  desirous  of  re- 
taining amongst  his  crew  a man  of  Edmond’s  value,  had  offered 
an  engagement  to  Dantes  ; but  Dantes,  who  had  his  own  projects, 
would  not  agree  for  a longer  time  than  three  months. 

La  Jeune  Amelie  had  a very  active  crew,  very  obedient  to  their 
captain,  who  lost  as  little  time  as  possible.  He  had  scarcely  been 
a week  at  Leghorn  before  the  hold  of  his  vessel  was  filled  with 
goods  on  which  the  Crown  had  forgotten  to  put  its  mark.  The 
master  was  to  get  all  this  out  of  Leghorn  free  of  duties,  and  land 
it  on  the  shores  of  Corsica,  where  speculators  undertook  to  forward 
the  cargo  to  France. 

When  the  profits  were  shared  out,  each  man  had  a hundred  Tus- 
can livres.  But  the  voyage  was  not  ended.  They  turned  the 
bowsprit  towards  Sardinia,  where  they  intended  to  take  in  a cargo, 
which  was  to  replace  what  had  been  discharged.  The  second 
operation  was  as  successful  as  the  first,  La  Jeune  Amilie  was  in  luck. 
This  new  cargo  was  destined  for  the  coast  of  the  Duchy  of  Lucca, 
and  consisted  almost  entirely  of  Havannah  cigars,  sherry,  and 
Malaga  wines. 

Two  months  and  a half  clasped  in  these  trips,  and  Edmond  had 
become  as  skilful  a coaster  as  he  had  been  a hardy  seaman  ; he 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1ST0 . 


81 


had  formed  an  acquaintance  with  all  the  smugglers  on  the  coast, 
and  learned  all  the  masonic  signs  by  which  these  half  pirates  rec- 
ognize each  other.  He  had  passed  and  re-passed  his  isle  of 
Monte-Cristo  twenty  times,  but  not  once  had  he  found  an  oppor- 
tunity of  landing  there.  In  vain  did  he  rack  his  imagination  ; 
fertile  as  it  was,  he  could  not  devise  any  plan  for  reaching  the 
wished-for  isle  without  being  accompanied  thither. 

Dantes  was  tossed  about  on  these  doubts  and  wishes,  when  the 
patron,  who  had  great  confidence  in  him,  and  was  very  desirous 
of  retaining  him  in  his  service,  took  him  by  the  arm  one  evening 
and  led  him  to  a tavern,  where  the  leading  smugglers  of  Leghorn 
used  to  congregate.  It  was  here  they  discussed  coast  business. 
Already  Dantes  had  visited  this  maritime  Bourse  two  or  three 
times,  and  seeing  all  these  hardy  free-traders,  who  supplied  the 
whole  coast  for  nearly  two  hundred  leagues  in  extent,  he  had  asked 
himself  what  power  might  not  that  man  attain  who  should  give 
the  impulse  of  his  will  to  all  these  contrary  and  diverging  links. 
This  time  it  was  a greater  matter  that  was  under  discussion,  con- 
nected with  a vessel  laden  with  Turkey  carpets,  stuffs  of  the 
Levant,  and  cashmeres.  It  was  requisite  to  find  some  neutral 
ground  on  which  an  exchange  could  be  made,  an  then  to  try  and 
land  these  goods  on  the  coast  of  France.  If  successful  the  profit 
would  be  enormous,  there  would  be  fifty  or  sixty  piastres  each  for 
the  crew. 

The  master  of  La  Jeune  Amelie  proposed  as  a place  of  landing 
the  isle  of  Monte-Cristo,  which  being  completely  deserted,  and 
having  neither  soldiers  nor  revenue  officers,  seem  to  have  been 
placed  in  the  midst  of  the  ocean  by  Mercury,  the  god  of  merchants 
,md  robbers,  classes  which  we  in  modern  times  have  separated 
if  not  made  distinct,  but  which  antiquity  appears  to  have  included 
in  the  same  category.  At  the  mention  of  Monte-Cristo  Dantes 
started  with  joy  ; he  rose  to  conceal  his  emotion,  and  took  a turn 
ifound  the  smoky  tavern,  where  all  the  languages  of  the  known 
world  were  jumbled  in  a lingua  franca . When  he  again  joined 
the  two  persons  who  had  been  discussing,  it  had  been  decided 
that  they  should  touch  at  Monte-Cristo,  and  set  out  on  the  follow- 
ing night.  Edmond,  being  consulted,  was  of  opinion  that  the 
island  offered  every  possible  security,  and  that  great  enterprises 
to  be  well  done  should  be  done  quickly.  Nothing  then  was  altered 
in  the  plan  arranged,  and  orders  were  given  to  get  under  weigh 
next  night,  and,  wind  and  weather  permitting,  to  gain,  the  day 
after,  the  waters  of  the  neutral  isle, 

6 


3a 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1ST0* 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

MONTE-CRISTO  ISLAND. 

THtfS,  at  length,  by  one  of  those  pieces  of  unlooked-for  good  for* 
tune  which  sometimes  occur  to  those  on  whom  misfortune  has  for 
a long  time  spent  itself,  Dantes  was  about  to  arrive  at  his  wished* 
for  opportunity  by  simple  and  natural  means,  and  land  in  the  island 
without  incurring  any  suspicion.  One  night  only  separated  him 
from  his  departure  so  ardently  wished  for. 

The  night  was  one  of  the  most  feverish  that  Dantes  had  every 
passed,  and  during  its  progress  all  the  charms  good  and  evil  passed 
through  his  brain.  The  day  came  at  length,  and  was  almost  as 
feverish  as  the  night  had  been,  but  it  brought  reason  to  aid  his 
imagination,  and  Dantes,  was  then  enabled  to  arrange  a plan 
which,  had  hitherto  been  vague  and  unsettled  in  his  brain.  Night 
came,  and  with  it  the  preparation  for  departure,  and  these  prepara- 
tions served  to  conceal  Dantes’  agitations.  He  had  by  degrees  as- 
umed  such  authority  over  his  companions  that  he  was  almost  like 
a commander  on  board  ; and  as  his  orders  were  always  clear,  dis- 
tinct, and  easy  of  execution,  his  comrades  obeyed  him  with  celerity 
and  pleasure. 

The  old  Skipper  did  not  interefere,  for  he  too  had  recognized 
the  superiority  of  Dantes  over  the  crew  and  himself.  He  saw  in 
the  young  man  his  natural  successor,  and  regretted  that  he  had  not 
a daughter,  that  he  might  have  bound  Edmond  to  him  by  a distin- 
guished alliance.  At  seven  o’clock  in  the  evening  all  was  ready, 
and  at  ten  minutes  past  seven  they  doubled  the  lighthouse  just  as  the 
beacon  was  kindled.  The  sea  was  calm,  and,  with  a fresh  breeze 
from  the  south-east,  they  sailed  beneath  a bright  blue  sky,  in 
which  God  also  lighted  up  in  turn  His  beacon-lights,  each  of  which 
is  a world.  Dantes  told  them  that  all  hands  might  turn  in,  and  he 
would  take  the  helm.  When  the  Maltese  (for  so  they  called 
Dantes)  had  said  this,  it  was  sufficient,  and  all  went  to  their  cots 
contentedly.  This  frequently  happened.  Dantes,  rejected  by 
all  the  world,  frequently  experienced  a desire  for  solitude  ; and 
what  solitude  is  at  the  same  time  more  complete,  more  poetical, 
than  that  of  a bark  floating  isolated  on  the  sea  during  the  obscurity 
of  the  night,  in  the  silence  of  immensity,  and  under  the  eye  of 
Heaven  ? 

Now  this  solitude  was  peopled  with  his  thoughts,  the  night 
lighted  up  by  his  illusions,  and  the  silence  animated  by  his  antici- 
pations. When  the  master  awoke,  the  vessel  was  hurrying  on  with 


'THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


85 


every  £a'f  set,  and  every  sail  full  with  the  breeze.  They  were  making 
nearly  ten  knots  an  hour.  The  isle  of  Monte-Cristo  loomed  large  in 
the  horizon.  Edmond  resigned  the  bark  to  the  master’s  care,  and 
went  and  lay  down  in  his  hammock  ; but  in  spite  of  a sleepless  night, 
he  could  not  close  his  eyes  for  a moment.  Two  hours  afterwards  he 
came  on  deck,  as  the  boat  was  about  to  double  the  isle  of  Elba.  They 
were  just  abreast  of  Mareciana,  and  beyond  the  flat  but  verdant 
isle  of  La  Pianosa.  The  peak  of  Monte-Cristo,  reddened  by  the 
burning  sun,  was  seen  against  the  azure  sky.  Dantes  desired  the 
helmsman  to  put  down  his  helm,  in  order  to  leave  La  Pianosa  on 
the  right  hand  as  he  knew  that  he  should  thus  decrease  the  distance 
by  two  or  three  knots.  About  five  o’clock  in  the  evening  the  island 
was  quite  distinct,  and  everything  on  it  was  plainly  perceptible, 
owing  to  that  clearness  of  the  atmosphere  which  is  peculiar  to  the 
light  which  the  rays  of  the  sun  cast  at  its  setting. 

Night  came,  and  at  ten  o’clock  p.  m.  they  anchored.  The 
Amelie  was  the  first  at  the  rendezvous.  In  spite  of  his  usual  com- 
mand over  himself,  Dantes  could  not  restrain  his  impetuosity. 
He  was  the  first  who  jumped  on  shore.  It  was  dark  ; but  at 
eleven  o’clock  the  moon  rose  in  the  midst  of  the  ocean,  whose 
every  wave  she  silvered,  and  then  played  in  floods  of  pale  light  on 
the  rocky  hills  of  this  second  Pelion. 

The  island  was  familiar  to  the  crew  of  La  Jeune  A?nelie , — it  was 
one  of  her  halting-places.  As  to  Dantes,  he  had  passed  it  on  his  voy- 
ages to  and  from  the  Levant,  but  never  touched  at  it.  He  questioned 
Jacopo.  “ Where  shall  we  pass  the  night?  ” he  inquired. 

“ Why,  on  board  the  tartane,”  replied  the  sailor. 

**  Should  we  not  be  better  in  the  caves  of  the  island?” 

“ I do  not  know  of  any,”  replied  Jacopo. 

For  a moment  Dantes  was  speechless  ; then  he  remembered 
that  these  caves  might  have  been  filled  up  by  some  accident,  or 
even  stopped  up,  for  the  sake  of  greater  security,  by  Cardinal  Spada. 
The  point  was,  then,  to  discover  the  last  opening.  It  was  useless 
to  search  at  night,  and  Dantes  therefore  delayed  all  investigation 
until  the  morning.  Besides,  a signal  made  half  a league  out  at 
sea,  and  to  which  La  Jetaie  Amt  lie  also  replied  by  a similar  sig- 
nal, indicated  that  the  moment  was  arrived  for  business.  The 
boat  that  now  arrived,  assured  by  the  answering  signal  that  all 
was  right,  soon  came  in  sight,  white  and  silent  as  a phantom,  and 
cast  anchor  within  a cable’s  length  of  shore. 

Then  the  landing  began. 

No  one  had  the  slightest  suspicion  ; and  when  next  day,  taking 
a fowling-piece,  powder,  and  shot,  Dantes  testified  a desire  to  go 
and  kill  some  of  the  wild  goats  that  were  seen  springing  from  rock 
to  rock,  his  wish  was  construed  into  a love  of  sport,  or  a desire  for 
solitude.  However,  Jacopo  insisted  on  following  him  ; and 
Dantes  did  not  oppose  this,  fearing  if  he  did  so  that  he  might  in- 
cur distrust.  Scarcely,  however*  had  he  gone  a quarter  of  a 


84 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


league  than,  having  killed  a kid,  he  begged  Jacopo  to  take  it  to 
his  comrades,  and  request  them  to  cook  it,  and  when  ready  to  le* 
him  know  by  firing  a gun. 

When  all  was  ready,  they  fired  the  signal  and  saw  him  hurrying 
down  the  crags  ; but  his  foot  slipped  and  he  had  a fall.  He 
vowed  that  he  was  internally  injured  so  that  they  had  to  leave  him 
there,  alone — though  Jacopo  wanted  to  stay  by  him — with  the  in- 
tention of  calling  for  him  in  a little  time. 

Needless  to  say,  next  morning  he  was  up  with  the  sun  and  be- 
gan his  search  solitarily  on  the  lines  which  Faria  had  laid  down. 
The  hoard  was  cunningly  concealed  but  he  was  too  sagely  directed 
to  fail.  The  Spadas’  treasure  was  contained  in  a chest,  which  was 
opened  by  his  pick. 

Three  compartments  divided  the  coffer.  In  the  first,  blazed 
piles  of  golden  coin  ; in  the  second,  ingots,  which  possessed  110th- 
ng  attractive  save  their  value,  were  ranged  ; in  the  third,  Dantes 
grasped  handfuls  of  diamonds,  pearls,  and  rubies,  which,  as  they 
/ell  on  one  another,  sounded  like  hail  against  glass.  After  having 
touched,  felt,  examined  these  treasures,  Edmond  rushed  through 
the  caverns  like  a man  seized  with  frenzy  ; he  leapt  on  a rock, 
from  whence  he  could  behold  the  sea.  He  was  alone.  Alone  with 
these  countless,  these  unheard-of  treasures  J Was  he  awake,  or 
was  it  but  a dream? 

He  soon  felt  himself  calmer  and  more  happy,  for  now  only  h© 
began  to  credit  his  felicity.  He  then  set  himself  to  count  his  for- 
tune There  were  a thousand  bricks  of  gold,  each  weighing  from 
two  to  three  pounds;  then  he  piled  up  twenty-five  thousand 
crowns,  each  worth  about  twenty  dollars  of  our  money,  and  bear- 
ing the  effigies  of  Alexander  VI.  and  his  predecessors  ; and  he 
saw  that  the  compartment  was  not  half  empty.  And  he  measured 
ten  double  handfuls  of  precious  stones,  many  of  which,  mounted 
by  the  most  famous  workmen,  were  valuable  for  their  execution. 
Dantes  saw  the  light  gradually  disappear  ; and  fearing  to  be  sur- 
prised in  the  cavern,  left  it,  his  gun  in  his  hand.  A piece  of  bis- 
cuit and  a small  quantity  of  rum  formed  his  supper,  and  he 
snatched  a few  hours'  sleep,  lying  over  the  mouth  of  the  cave. 

On  the  sixth  day  the  smugglers  returned.  They  had  merely 
come  to  Monte-Cristo  to  fetch  him  away,  so  he  embarked  that 
same  evening,  and  proceeded  with  the  captain  to  Leghorn. 
Arrived,  he  repaired  to  the  house  of  a Jew  dealer  in  precious 
stones,  to  whom  he  disposed  of  four  of  his  smallest  diamonds,  for 
five  thousand  francs  each.  Dantes  half  feared  that  such  valuable 
jewels  in  the  hands  of  a poor  sailor  like  himself  might  excite  sus- 
picion ; but  the  cunning  purchaser  asked  no  troublesome  questions 
concerning  a bargain  by  which  he  gained  at  least  four  thousand 
francs. 

The  following  day  Dantes  presented  Jacopo  with  an  entirely 
new  vessel,  accompanying  the  gift  by  a donation  of  one  hundred 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


85 


piastres,  that  he  might  provide  himself  with  a suitable  crew  and 
other  requisites  for  his  outfit,  upon  conditions  of  his  going  direct 
to  Marseilles  for  the  purpose  of  inquiring  after  an  old  man  named 
Louis  Dantes,  residing  in  Median  Alley,  and  also  a young  female 
called  Mercedes,  an  inhabitant  of  the  Catalan  village.  Jacopo 
could  scarcely  believe  his  senses  at  receiving  this  munificent 
present,  which  Dantes  hastened  to  account  for  by  saying  that  he 
had  merely  been  a sailor  from  whim  and  a desire  to  spite  his 
friends  who  did  not  allow  him  as  much  money  as  he  liked  to  spend  ; 
but  that  on  his  arrival  at  Leghorn  he  had  come  into  possession  of 
a large  fortune,  left  him  by  an  uncle,  whose  sole  heir  he  was. 
The  superior  education  of  Dantes  gave  an  air  of  such  extreme 
probability  to  this  statement  that  it  never  once  occurred  to  Jacopo 
to  doubt  its  accuracy.  The  term  for  which  Edmond  had  engaged 
to  serve  on  board  La  Jeune  Amelie  having  expired,  Dantes  took 
leave  of  the  captain,  who  at  first  tried  all  his  powers  of  persuasion 
to  induce  him  to  remain  one  of  the  crew,  but  having  been  told  the 
history  of  the  legacy,  he  ceased  to  importune  him  further.  The 
succeeding  morning  Jacopo  set  sail  for  Marseilles,  with  directions 
from  Dantes  to  join  him  at  the  island  of  Monte-Cristo. 

Having  seen  Jacopo  fairly  out  of  the  harbor,  Dantes  proceeded 
fto  make  his  final  adieus  on  board  La  Jeune  Amelie , distributing  so 
liberal  a gratuity  among  her  crew  as  procured  him  the  unanimous 
good  wishes  and  expressions  of  cordial  interest  in  all  that  con- 
cerned him  ; to  the  captain  he  promised  to  write  when  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  as  to  his  future  plans,  this  leave-taking  over, 
Dantes  departed  for  Genoa.  At  the  moment  of  his  arrival  a small 
yacht  was  being  tried  in  the  bay  ; this  yacht  had  been  built  by 
order  of  an  Englishman,  who,  having  heard  that  the  Genoese  ex- 
celled all  other  builders  along  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean  in 
the  construction  of  fast-sailing  vessels,  was  desirous  of  possessing 
a specimen  of  their  skill ; the  price  agreed  upon  between  the 
Englishman  and  the  Genoese  builder  was  forty  thousand  francs. 
Dantes,  struck  with  the  beauty  and  capability  of  the  little  vessel, 
applied  to  its  owner  to  transfer  it  to  him,  offering  sixty  thousand 
francs,  upon  condition  of  being  allowed  to  take  immediate  pos- 
session of  it. 

The  following  day  Dantes  sailed  with  his  yacht  from  the  port  of 
Genoa,  amid  the  gaze  of  an  immense  crowd  drawn  together  by 
curiosity  to  see  the  rich  Spanish  nobleman  who  preferred  manag- 
ing his  vessel  himself.  But  their  wonder  was  soon  exchanged  to 
admiration  at  the  perfect  skill  with  which  Dantes  handled  the 
helm,  and,  without  quitting  it,  making  his  little  vessel  perform 
every  movement  he  chose  to  direct : his  bark  seemed,  indeed,  re- 
plete with  all  but  human  intelligence,  so  promptly  did  it  obey  the 
slightest  impulse  given  ; and  Dantes  required  but  a short  trial  of 
his  beautiful  craft  to  acknowledge  that  it  was  not  without  truth  the 
Genoese  had  attained  their  high  reputation  in  the  art  or  ship-build* 


86 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


ing.  The  spectators  followed  the  little  vessel  with  their  eyes  so 
long  as  it  remained  visible  ; they  then  turned  their  conjectures 
upon  her  probable  destination.  Some  insisted  she  was  making  for 
Corsica,  others  the  isle  of  Elba  ; bets  were  offered  to  any  amount 
that  she  was  bound  for  Spain  ; while  Africa  was  positively  reported 
by  many  persons  as  her  intended  course  ; but  no  one  thought  of 
Monte-Cristo.  Yet  thither  it  was  that  Dantes  guided  his  vessel, 
and  at  Monte-Cristo  he  arrived  at  the  close  of  the  second  day. 
Early  on  the  following  morning  he  commenced  the  removal  of  his 
riches,  and  ere  nightfall  the  whole  of  his  immense  wealth  was 
sefely  deposited  in  the  secret  compartments  of  his  hidden  closet. 

Upon  the  eighth  day  of  his  being  on  tne  island  he  discerned  a 
small  vessel  crowding  all  sail  towards  Monte-Cristo.  As  it  neared, 
he  recognized  it  as  the  bark  given  to  Jacopo.  He  immediately 
signalled  it.  His  signal  was  returned,  and  in  two  hours  afterwards 
the  bark  lay  at  anchor  beside  the  yacht.  A mournful  answer 
awaited  each  of  Edmond’s  eager  inquiries  as  to  the  information 
Jacopo  had  obtained.  Old  Dantes  was  dead,  and  Mercedes  had 
disappeared.  Dantes  listened  to  these  melancholy  tidings  with 
outward  calmness;  but,  leaping  lightly  ashore,  he  signified  his 
desire  to  be  quite  alone.  In  a couple  of  hours  he  returned.  Two 
of  the  men  from  Jacopo’s  bark  came  on  board  the  yacht  to  assist 
in  navigating  it,  and  he  commanded  she  should  be  steered  direct 
to  Marseilles.  For  his  father’s  death  he  was  in  some  manner  pre- 
pared ; but  how  to  account  for  the  mysterious  disappearance  of 
Mercedes  he  knew  not. 

Without  divulging  his  secret,  Dantes  could  not  give  sufficiently 
clear  instructions  to  an  agent.  There  were,  besides,  other  particu- 
lars he  was  desirous  of  ascertaining,  and  those  were  of  a nature 
he  alone  could  investigate  in  a manner  satisfactory  to  himself. 
His  looking-glass  had  assured  him,  during  his  stay  at  Leghorn, 
that  he  ran  no  risk  of  recognition  ; added  to  which,  he  had  now 
the  means  of  adopting  any  disguise  he  thought  proper.  One  fine 
morning,  then,  his  yacht,  followed  by  the  little  bark,  boldly 
entered  the  port  of  Marseilles,  and  anchored  exactly  opposite  the 
memorable  spot  from  whence,  on  the  never-to-be-forgotten  night 
of  his  departure  for  the  Castle  If,  he  had  been  put  on  board  the 
vessel  destined  to  convey  him  thither.  Still  Dantes  could  not  view 
without  a shudder  the  approach  of  a gendarme  who  accompanied 
the  officers  deputed  to  demand  his  bill  of  health  ere  the  yacht  was 
permitted  to  hold  communication  with  the  shore  ; but  with  that  per- 
fect self-possession  he  had  acquired  during  his  acquaintance  with 
Faria,  Dantes  coolly  presented  an  English  passport  he  had  ob- 
tained from  Leghorn,  and,  with  that  prompt  attention  which  all 
such  documents  receive,  he  was  informed  there  existed  no  ob- 
stacle to  his  immediate  debarkation. 

The  first  object  that  attracted  the  attention  of  Dantes,  as  lie 
landed  ou  the  Canerbiere,  was  one  of  the  crew  belonging  to  the 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


87 


Pharaoh . Edmond  hailed  the  appearance  of  this  man,  who  had 
served  under  himself,  as  a sure  test  of  the  safe  and  perfect  change 
time  had  worked  in  his  own  appearance.  Going  straight  toward 
him,  he  commenced  a variety  of  questions  on  different  subjects, 
carefully  watching  the  man’s  countenance  as  he  did  so  ; but  not  a 
word  or  look  implied  his  having  the  slightest  idea  of  ever  having 
seen  before  the  individual  with  whom  he  was  then  conversing. 
Giving  the  sailor  a piece  of  money  in  return  for  his  civility, 
Dantes  proceeded  onwards  ; but  ere  he  had  gone  many  steps  he 
heard  the  man  loudly  calling  him  to  stop.  Dantes  instantly  turned 
to  meet  him.  “ I beg  your  pardon,  sir/*  said  the  honest  fellow, 
in  almost  breathless  haste,  “ but  I believe  you  have  made  a mis- 
take : you  intended  to  give  me  a two-franc  piece,  and  see,  you 

gave  me  a double  Napoleon.” " Thank  you,  my  good  friend. 

I see  that  I have  made  a trifling  mistake,  as  you  say  ; but  by  way 
of  rewarding  your  honest  spirit  I give  you  another  double  Napo- 
leon, that  you  may  drink  to  my  health,  and  be  able  to  ask  your 
messmates  to  join  you.” 

So  extreme  was  the  surprise  of  the  sailor,  that  he  was  unable 
even  to  thank  Edmond,  whose  receding  figure  he  continued  to 
gaze  after  in  speechless  astonishment.  At  length,  when  Dantes 
had  wholly  disappeared,  he  drew  a deep  breath,  and,  with  an- 
other look  at  his  gold,  he  returned  to  the  quay,  saying  to  himself, 
“Ah,  that’s  a nabob  from  India.9* 

Dantes,  meanwhile,  continued  his  route.  Each  step  he  trod 
oppressed  his  heart  with  fresh  emotion  : his  first  and  most  indel- 
ible recollections  were  there  ; not  a tree,  not  a street  that  he 
passed  but  seemed  filled  with  dear  and  cherished  reminiscences. 
And  thus  he  proceeded  onward  till  he  found  himself  at  the  door 
of  the  house  in  which  his  father  had  lived.  Dantes  succeeded  in  in- 
ducing the  janitor  to  go  up  to  the  present  possessors  of  the  fifth 
flat,  and  ask  permission  for  a gentleman  to  be  allowed  to  look  at 
them.  The  tenants  of  the  humble  lodging,  once  the  scene  of  all 
Dantes’  early  joys,  consisted  of  a young  couple  who  had  been 
scarcely  married  a week  ; and  the  sight  of  a wedded  happiness 
he  was  doomed  never  to  experience  drove  a bitter  pang  through 
his  heart. 

The  young  couple  gazed  with  astonishment  at  the  sight  of  their 
visitor’s  emotion,  and  wondered  to  see  the  large  tears  silently  chase 
each  other  down  his  otherwise  stern  and  immovable  features  ; but 
they  felt  the  sacredness  of  his  grief,  and  kindly  refrained  from 
questioning  him  as  to  its  cause,  while,  with  instinctive  delicacy, 
they  left  him  to  indulge  his  sorrow  alone.  When  he  withdrew 
from  the  scene  of  his  painful  recollections,  they  both  accom- 
panied him  down-stairs,  reiterating  their  hope  that  he  would  c ome 
again  whenever  he  pleased,  and  assuring  him  their  poor  dwelling 
should  ever  be  open  to  him.  As  Edmond  passed  the  door  of 
similar  rooms  on  the  fourth  floor,  he  paused  to  inquire  whether 


88 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


Caderousse  the  tailor  still  dwelt  there  ; but  he  received  for  reply, 
that  the  individual  in  question  had  got  into  difficulties,  and  at 
the  present  time  kept  a small  inn  on  the  Bellegarde-Beaucaire 
road. 

Having  obtained  the  address  of  the  person  to  whom  the  house 
in  Median  Alley  belonged,  Dantes  next  proceeded  thither,  and, 
under  the  name  of  Lord  Wilmore  (the  same  as  that  in  his  pass- 
port), purchased  the  small  dwelling  for  the  sum  of  25,000 francs, 
at  least  10,000  more  than  it  was  worth  ; but  had  its  owner  asked 
ten  times  the  sum  he  did,  it  would  unhesitatingly  have  been 
given.  The  very  same  day  the  occupants  of  the  apartments  on 
the  fifth  floor  of  the  house,  now  become  the  property  of  Dantes, 
were  duly  informed  by  the  notary  who  had  arranged  the  neces- 
sary transfer  of  deeds,  &c.,  that  the  new  landlord  gave  them  their 
choice  of  any  of  the  rooms  in  the  house,  without  the  least  aug- 
mentation of  rent,  upon  condition  of  their  giving  instant  pos- 
session of  the  two  small  chambers  they  at  present  inhabited. 

This  strange  event  served  to  find  food  for  wonder  and  curiosity 
in  the  neighborhood,  and  a multitude  of  various  conjectures 
were  afloat  as  to  the  probable  cause  of  the  house  being  so  sud‘ 
denly  and  mysteriously  disposed  of ; but  each  surmise  seemed  to 
wander  farther  and  farther  from  the  truth.  But  that  which 
raised  public  astonishment  to  a climax,  and  set  all  speculations 
at  defiance,  was  the  circumstance  of  the  same  stranger  who  had 
in  the  morning  visited  Median  Alley  being  seen  in  the  evening 
walking  in  the  little  village  of  the  Catalans,  and  afterwards  ob* 
served  to  enter  a poor  fisherman’s  hut,  and  to  pass  more  than  an 
hour  in  inquiring  after  persons  who  had  either  been  dead  or  gone 
away  for  more  than  fifteen  or  sixteen  years.  But  on  the  follow- 
ing day  the  family  from  whom  all  these  particulars  had  been 
asked  received  a handsome  present,  consisting  of  an  entirely  new 
fishing-boat,  with  a full  supply  of  excellent  nets.  The  delighted 
recipients  of  these  munificent  gifts  would  gladly  have  poured  out 
their  thanks  to  their  generous  benefactor  ; but  they  had  seen  him, 
upon  quitting  the  hut,  merely  give  some  orders  to  a sailor,  and 
then,  springing  lightly  on  horseback,  quit  Marseilles. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  ROADHOUSE. 

Midway  between  the  town  of  Beaucaire  and  the  village  of  BeL 
legarde,  stood  a small  roadside  inn,  from  the  front  of  which  hung, 
creaking  and  flapping  in  the  wind,  a sheet  of  tin  covered  with  a 
caricature  resemblance  of  the  Pont  du  Gard. 

For  nearly  the  last  eight  years  the  small  inn  we  have  just 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


89 


been  describing  had  been  kept  by  a man  and  his  wife,  with  two 
servants.  But,  alas ! the  occupation  of  each  domestic  was  but 
nominal,  for  a canal  recently  made  had  proved  a most  success- 
ful speculation,  and  had  transferred  the  mode  of  sending  mer- 
chandize and  luggage  from  the  heavy  wagons  to  the  towed 
barge,  while  travelers  forsook  the  diligence  to  glide  over  the 
smooth  waters  by  the  more  agreeable  aid  of  the  steamboat. 
And,  as  though  to  add  to  the  daily  misery  which  the  prosper- 
ous canal  inflicted  on  the  unfortunate  man,  whose  utter  ruin  it 
was  fast  accomplishing,  it  was  situated  not  a hundred  steps  from 
the  forsaken  inn,  of  which  we  have  given  so  faithful  a description. 

The  host  himself  was  a man  of  from  forty  to  fifty-five  years  of 
age,  tall,  strong,  and  bony,  a perfect  specimen  of  the  natives  of 
those  southern  latitudes  ; he  had  the  dark,  sparkling,  and  deep- 
set  eye,  curved  nose,  and  teeth  white  as  a carnivorous  animal ; 
his  hair,  which,  spite  of  the  light  touch  time  had  as  yet  left  on 
it,  seemed  as  though  it  refused  to  assume  any  other  color  than  its 
own,  was  like  his  beard,  which  he  wore  under  his  chin,  thick  and 
curly,  and  but  slightly  mingled  with  a few  silvery  threads.  His 
naturally  muddy  complexion  had  assumed  a still  further  shade  of 
brown  from  the  habit  the  unfortunate  man  had  acquired  of 
stationing  himself  from  early  morning  till  latest  eve  at  the  thres- 
hold of  his  door,  in  eager  hope  that  some  traveler,  either  eques- 
trian or  pedestrian,  might  give  him  the  delight  of  once  more  see- 
ing a guest  enter  his  doors;  but  his  patience  and  his  expectations 
were  alike  useless  ; yet  there  he  stood,  day  after  day,  exposed  to  the 
beams  of  a burning  sun,  with  no  other  protection  for  his  head 
than  a red  handkerchief  twisted  around  it,  after  the  manner  of 
Spanish  muleteers.  This  anxious,  careworn  host  was  no  other 
than  our  acquaintance  Caderousse. 

His  wife,  Madeleine,  was  pale,  meagre,  and  sickiy-looking.  She 
remained  nearly  always  in  her  chamber,  situated  on  the  first 
floor  ; sitting  shivering  in  her  chair,  or  extended  languid  and 
feeble  on  her  bed,  while  her  husband  kept  his  daily  watch  at  the 
door — a duty  he  performed  with  so  much  the  greater  willingness, 
as  it  saved  him  the  necessity  of  listening  to  the  endless  plaints 
and  murmurs  of  his  helpmate,  who  never  saw  him  without  break- 
ing out  into  bitter  invectives  against  fate  and  the  unmerited  hard- 
ships she  was  called  upon  to  endure ; to  all  of  which  her  hus- 
band would  calmly  return  an  unvarying  reply,  couched  in  these 
philosophic  words : 

" Cease  to  grieve  about  it,  La  Carconte.  It  is  God’s  pleasure 
that  you  should  suffer,  and  whether  you  like  it  or  not,  you  must 
bear  it.” 

The  sobriquet  of  La  Carconte  had  been  bestovred  on  Madeleine 
Radelle  from  the  circumstance  of  her  having  been  born  in  a 
village  so  called,  and  her  husband  had  bestowed  on  her  the  name 
in  place  of  her  sweet  and  euphonious  name  of  Madeleine,  which. 


90 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


in  all  probability,  his  rude  guttural  language  would  not  have  en- 
abled him  to  pronounce.  Still,  let  it  not  be  supposed  that  amid 
this  affected  resignation  to  the  will  of  Providence,  the  unfortunate 
host  did  not  writhe  under  the  double  misery  of  seeing  the  hateful 
canal  carry  off  alike  his  customers  and  profits,  and  the  daily 
implication  of  his  peevish  partner’s  lamentations. 

Like  others  of  the  south,  he  was  of  sober  habits  and  moderate 
desires,  but  vain,  and  addicted  to  display.  During  the  days 
of  his  prosperity,  no  festivity,  or  ceremonial  took  place  with- 
out himself  and  wife  being  among  the  spectators.  He 
dressed  in  the  picturesque  costume  worn  in  the  south,  while  La 
Carconte  displayed  the  charming  fashion  prevalent  among  the 
females  of  Arles,  a mode  of  attire  borrowed  equally  from  Greece 
and  Arabia.  But,  by  degrees,  Gaspard  Caderousse,  unable  to 
appear  abroad  in  splendor,  had  given  up  any  further  participation 
in  these  pomps,  both  for  himself  or  wife,  although  a bitter  feeling 
of  envious  discontent  filled  his  mind  as  merry  sounds  reached  even 
the  miserable  hostelry  to  which  he  still  clung,  more  for  shelter  than 
profit. 

Caderousse  was,  as  usual,  at  his  place  of  observation  before  the 
door,  his  eyes  sadly  glancing  from  a piece  of  closely-shaven 
grass — on  which  some  fowls  were  picking — to  the  deserted  road, 
north  and  south,  when  he  was  roused  by  the  shrill  voice  of  his 
wife.  Murmuring,  he  proceeded  to  the  chamber  of  his  better  half 
— taking  care,  to  set  the  entrance-door  wide  open. 

At  the  moment  Caderousse  quitted  the  door,  the  road  on  which 
strained  his  sight  was  void  and  lonely  as  a desert  at  mid-day. 
There  it  lay  stretched  out,  bordered  by  tall,  meagre  trees  ; no  one 
could  imagine  that  any  traveler  would  expose  himself  to  such  a 
formidable  Sahara.  Nevertheless,  had  Caderousse  but  retained  his 
post,  he  might  have  caught  sight  from  the  direction  of  Bellegarde; 
a man  and  horse,  between  whom  the  kindest  and  most  amiable 
understanding  appeared  to  exist.  His  rider  was  a priest, 
dressed  in  black,  and  wearing  a three-cornered  hat ; spite  of  the 
ardent  rays  the  pair  came  on  at  a tolerably  smart  trot. 

Having  arrived,  the  horse  stopped,  but  whether  for  his  own  pleas- 
ure or  his  rider’s  would  be  difficult  to  say.  However,  the 
priest,  dismounting,  led  his  steed  to  a handle  that  projected  from 
a shutter,  he  tied  the  animal,  and,  having  drawn  a red  cotton  hand- 
kerchief from  his  pocket,  wiped  away  the  perspiration  that 
streamed  from  his  brow.  He  struck  thrice  with  his  iron-shod 
stick.  At  this  unusual  sound  a huge  black  dog  came,  snarling 
and  displaying  his  sharp  white  teeth,  with  hostility  that  proved 
how  little  he  was  accustomed  to  society.  A heavy  footstep  was 
heard  descending  the  wooden  stair-case  from  the  upper  floor, 
and,  with  many  bows,  mine  host  welcomed  the  priest. 

Said  the  astonished  Caderousse.  “Now,  then,  Margontin,’* 
cried  he,  “ will  you  be  quiet  ? Pray  don’t  heed  him,  sir  1 — he  only 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


9* 


barks,  he  never  bites  ! a glass  of  good  wine  would  be  acceptable 
this  measly  hot  day  ! * ’ Then  perceiving  for  the  first  time  the  descrip- 
tion of  traveler  he  had  to  entertain,  Caderousse  exclaimed:  11 A 
thousand  pardons,  your  reverence  ! I did  not  observe  whom  I 
had  the  honor  to  receive.  What  would  you  please  to  have, 
father  ? I am  at  your  service.” 

The  priest  gazed  on  the  individual  with  a long  and  searching 
gaze — even  seemed  to  court  a similar  scrutiny  on  the  landlord's 
part ; then,  remarking  in  the  countenance  no  other  expression 
than  extreme  surprise  at  his  own  want  of  attention  to  an  inquiry, 
he  deemed  it  as  well  to  terminate  this  emotion,  and  said,  speaking 
with  a strong  Italian  accent:  “You  are,  I presume,  M.  Cade- 

rousse ? ” 

“ Your  reverence  is  quite  correct,**  answered  the  host,  even 
more  surprised  at  the  question  than  by  the  silence  ; “ I am  Gas- 
pard  Caderousse,  at  your  service.” 

“ Gaspard  Caderousse  ! ” Yes,  that  agrees  both  with  the  bap- 
tismal appellation  and  surname.  You  formerly  lived,  I believe, 
in  Median  Alley,  on  the  fourth  floor  ; where  you  followed  the 
business  of  a tailor  ? ’* 

“True,  till  the  trade  fell  off.  Then,  it  is  so  very  hot  at  Mar- 
seilles, that  the  inhabitants  will  be  obliged  to  leave  off  clothes. 
But  talking  of  heat,  can’t  I offer  you  refreshment?” 

“ Yes  ; let  me  have  a bottle  of  your  best,  and  then,  with  your 
permission,  we  will  resume  our  conversation  from  where  we  left 
off.” 

“ As  you  please,**  said  Caderousse,  who,  anxious  not  to  lose  the 
present  customer  for  one  of  the  few  bottles  of  Cahors  still  remain- 
ing, hastily  raised  a trap-door  in  the  floor  of  the  parlor  and 
kitchen.  Upon  his  issuing  in  five  minutes,  he  found  the  abbe 
seated  on  a stool,  leaning  his  elbow  on  a table,  while  Margontin, 
appeased  by  the  traveler  having  pronounced  the  unusual  com- 
mand for  refreshments,  had  his  long,  skinny  neck  resting  on  his 
lap,  while  his  dim  eye  was  fixed  on  the  traveler. 

“Are  you  quite  alone?”  inquired  the  guest,  as  Caderousse 
placed  before  him  the  bottle  and  a glass. 

“ Quite,  quite  alone,  or,  all  but  so,  for  my  poor  wife,  is  laid  up 
with  illness,  and  unable  to  render  me  the  least  assistance,  poor 
Carconte  ! ** 

“You  are  married,  then?”  said  the  priest,  with  interest, 
glancing  round  as  he  spoke  at  the  humble  fittings-up. 

“Ah,  father,”  said  Caderousse,  with  a sigh,  “in  this  world  a 
man  does  not  thrive  the  better  for  being  honest.”  The  abbe 
fixed  on  him  a piercing  glance. 

“ I can  certainly  say  that  much  for  myself,”  replied  the  publican, 
sustaining  the  scrutiny  ; “I  can  boast  with  truth  of  being  an 
honest  man  ; and,”  continued  he,  shaking  his  head,  “that  is  more 
than  every  one  can  say  now-a-days.” 


92 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRIS  TO. 


11  So  much  the  better,  if  what  you  assert  be  true,**  said  the 
abbe  ; “for  I am  firmly  persuaded  that,  sooner  or  later,  the  good 
will  be  rewarded,  and  the  wicked  punished.” 

“Such  words  belong  to  your  profession,”  answered  Cade- 
rousse,  with  a bitter  expression,  “ you  cannot  make  people  be- 
lieve them.” 

“You  are  wrong  to  speak  thus,”  said  the  abbe  ; 41  and  perhaps 
1 may,  in  my  own  person,  be  able  to  prove  it." 

“ What  mean  you?  ” inquired  Caderousse,  with  surprise. 

44  In  the  first  place,  it  is  requisite  I should  be  satisfied  you  are 
the  person  I am  in  search  of.” 

44  What  proofs  do  you  reouire  ? ” 

44  Did  you,  in  the  year  1814  or  1815,  know  of  a sailor  named 

Dantes  ? 1 ' 

44  Did  I ? I should  think  I did.  Poor  dear  Edmond ! Why, 
Edmond ! Why,  Edmond  Dantes  and  myself  were  intimate 
friends  ! ” exclaimed  Caderousse,  whose  countenance  assumed  an 
almost  purple  hue,  as  he  caught  the  penetrating  gaze  of  the  abbe 
fixed  011  him,  while  the  clear,  calm  eye  of  the  questioner  seemed 
to  cover  him  with  confusion. 

44  You  remind  me,”  said  the  priest,  44  that  the  young  man  con- 
cerning  whom  I asked  you  was  said  to  bear  the  name  of  Ed- 
mond.” 

44  Said  to  bear  the  name ! ” repeated  Caderousse,  becoming 
excited  and  eager.  44  Why,  he  was  so  called  as  truly  as  I myself 
bore  the  appellation  of  Gaspard  Caderousse  : but,  M.  l’Abbe,  tel? 
me,  I pray,  what  has  become  of  poor  Edmond.  Did  you  know 
him  ? Is  he  alive  and  at  liberty  ? Is  he  prosperous  and  happy  ? ” 

44  He  died  a more  wretched,  hopeless,  heart-broken  prisoner 
than  the  felons  who  pay  the  penalty  of  their  crimes  at  the  gal- 
leys of  Toulon.” 

A deadly  paleness  succeeded  the  deep  suffusion  which  had  be- 
fore spread  over  the  countenance  of  Caderousse,  who  turned 
away,  but  not  so  much  so  as  to  prevent  the  priest’s  observing 
him  wiping  away  the  tears  from  his  eyes  with  the  corner  of  the 
red  handkerchief  twisted  round  his  head. 

44  Poor  fellow  ! poor  fellow  ! ” murmured  Caderousse.  44  Well, 
there,  M.  l’Abbe,  is  another  proof  that  good  people  are  never  re- 
warded on  this  earth,  and  that  none  but  the  wicked  prosper. 
Ah,”  continued  Caderousse,  speaking  in  the  highly-colored  lan- 
guage of  the  South,  44  the  world  grows  worse  and  worse.  Why 
does  not  God,  if  He  really  hates  the  wicked,  as  He  is  said  to  do, 
send  down  brimstone  and  lire,  and  consume  them  altogether?  ” 

44  You  speak  as  though  you  had  loved  this  young  Dantes," 
observed  the  abbe,  without  taking  any  notice  of  his  companion’s 

vehemence. 44  And  so  I did,”  replied  Caderousse  ; 44  though 

once,  I confess,  I envied  him  his  good  fortune.  But  I swear  to 
you,  M.  l’Abbe,  I swear  to  you,  by  everything  a man  holds  dear, 


inn  COU/VI  ur  MOiVm  CKlSTO.  9$ 

I have,  since  then,  deeply  and  sincerely  lamented  his  unhappy 
fate.”  There  was  a brief  silence,  during  which  the  fixed,  search- 
ing eye  of  the  abbe  was  employed  scrutinizing  the  agitated  feat- 
ures  of  the  aubergiste. 

41  You  knew  the  poor  lad,  then?  ” continued  Caderousse. 

<«  Nay,  I was  merely  called  to  tee  him  when  on  his  dying  bed, 
that  /might  administer  to  him  the  consolations  of  religion.” 

“ And  of  what  did  he  die?”  asked  Caderousse  in  a choking 
voice. 

“ Of  what,  think  you,  do  young  and  strong  men  die  in  prison  ? 
Edmond  Dantes  died  in  prison  of  sorrow  and  a broken  heart.” 
Caderousse  wiped  away  the  perspiration  gathered  on  his  brow. 

“ But  the  strangest  part  of  the  story  is,”  resumed  the  abbe, 
“ that  Dantes,  even  in  his  dying  moments,  swore  by  his  crucified 
Redeemer,  that  he  was  utterly  ignorant  of  the  cause  of  his  impris- 
onment.” 

‘‘And  so  he  was,”  murmured  Caderousse.  “How  should  he 
have  been  otherwise?  Ah,  the  poor  fellow  told  you  the  truth.” 

“ And  for  that  reason,  he  besought  me  to  try  and  clear  up  a 
mystery  he  had  never  been  able  to  penetrate,  and  to  clear  his 
memory  should  any  foul  spot  or  stain  have  fallen  on  it.”  And 
here  the  look  of  the  abbe,  becoming  more  and  more  fixed,  seemed 
to  rest  with  ill-concealed  satisfaction  on  the  gloomy  depression 
which  seemed  rapidly  spreading  over  the  countenance  of  Cade- 
rousse. 

“ A rich  Englishman,”  continued  the  abbe,  “ who  had  been  his 
companion  in  misfortune,  but  had  been  released  from  prison  dur- 
ing the  second  restoration,  was  possessed  of  a diamond  of  im- 
mense value  : this  precious  jewel  he  bestowed  on  Dantes  upon 
himself  quitting  the  prison,  as  a mark  of  his  gratitude  for  the 
kindness  and  brotherly  care  with  which  Dantes  had  nursed  him 
in  a severe  illness  he  underwent  during  his  confinement.  Instead 
of  employing  this  diamond  in  attempting  to  bribe  his  jailers,  who 
might  only  have  taken  it  and  then  betrayed  him  to  the  gov- 
ernor, Dantes  carefully  preserved  it,  that  in  the  event  of  his  get- 
ting out  of  prison  he  might  have  wherewithal  to  live,  for  the  pro- 
duce of  such  a diamond  woiTld  have  quite  sufficed  to  make  his  for- 
tune.” 

Calmly  drawing  from  his  pocket  a small  box  covered  with 
black  shagreen,  the  abbe  opened  it,  and  displayed  to  the  de- 
lighted eyes  of  Caderousse  the  sparkling  jewel  it  contained,  set 
in  a ring  of  admirable  workmanship.  “And  that  diamond,” 
cried  Caderousse,  almost  breathless  with  eager  admiration,  “you 
say,  is  worth  50,000  francs?  ” 

“ It  is,  without  the  setting,  which  is  also  valuable,”  replied  the 
priest  as  he  closed  the  box,  and  returned  it  to  his  pocket,  while 
its  brilliant  hues  seemed  still  to  dance  before  the  eyes  of  the  fasci* 

nated. 


94 


THE  C PUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


“But  how  comes  this  diamond  in  your  possession?  Did  Ed* 
mond  make  you  his  heir?'* 

“ No,  merely  his  testamentary  executor.  When  dying,  the  un* 
fortunate  youth  said  to  me,  ‘ I once  possessed  four  dear  and  faith- 
ful friends,  besides  the  maiden  to  whom  I was  betrothed  : and 
i feel  convinced  they  have  all  unfeignedly  grieved  over  my  loss. 
The  name  of  one  of  the  four  friends  I allude  to  is  Caderousse.’  ” 
He  shivered  as  though  he  felt  the  dead  cold  hand  of  the  betrayed 
Edmond  grasping  his  own. 

“ 'Another  of  the  number,’  ” continued  the  abbe,  without  seem- 
ing to  notice  the  emotion,  “'is  called  Danglars;  and  the  third, 
spite  of  being  my  rival,  entertained  a very  sincere  affection  for 
me.’  ” A fiendish  smile  played  over  the  features  of  Caderousse, 
who  was  about  to  break  in  upon  the  abbe’s  speech,  when  the 
latter,  waving  his  hand,  said  : “ Allow  me  to  finish  first,  and 

then  if  you  have  any  observations  to  make,  you  can  do  so  after- 
wards. ' The  third  of  my  friends,  although  my  rival,  was  much 
attached  to  me, — his  name  was  Fernand:  that  of  my  betrothed 
was- * ''  Mercedes,”  cried  Caderousse  eagerly. 

“To  be  sure.  'Well,  then,’  said  Dantes, — for  you  understand, 
I repeat  his  words  just  as  he  uttered  them — ‘ you  will  go  to  Mar- 
seilles. For  the  purpose  of  selling  this  diamond;  the  produce  of 
which  you  will  divide  into  five  equal  parts,  and  give  an  equal 
portion  to  the  only  persons  who  have  loved  me  upon  earth.’  ” 

“ But  why  into  five  parts?  ” asked  Caderousse  ; “ you  only 

mentioned  four  persons.” 

“ Because  the  fifth  is  dead,  as  I hear.  The  fifth  sharer  in  Ed- 
mond’s bequest  was  his  own  father.” “ Too  true,  too  true  ! ” 

ejaculated  Caderousse,  almost  suffocated  by  the  contending  pas- 
sions which  assailed  him,  '*  the  poor  old  man  did  die.” 

“ I learned  so  much  at  Marseilles,”  replied  the  abbe,  making  a 
strong  effort  to  appear  indifferent ; “but  from  the  length  of  time 
that  has  elapsed  since  the  death  of  the  elder  Dantes,  I was  un- 
able to  obtain  any  particulars  of  his  end.  You  possibly  may  be 
capable  of  furnishing  me  with  such  minute  circumstances  as  may 
serve  to  substantiate  the  decease  of  the  elder  Dantes.” 

“ I do  not  know  who  could  if  I could  not,”  said  Caderousse. 
“Why  I lived  almost  on  the  same  floor  with  the  poor  old  man. 
Ah,  yes  ! about  a year  after  the  disappearance  of  his  son  the  old 
man  died.  The  doctors  called  his  complaint  an  internal  inflamma- 
tion, I believe  ; his  acquaintances  say  he  died  of  grief ; but  I,  who 
saw  him  in. his  dying  moments,  I say  he  died  of  downright  starva- 
tion.” 

“Starvation!”  exclaimed  the  abbe,  springing  from  his  seat. 
Oh,  it  is  impossible — utterly  impossible?” 

“What  I have  said,  I have  said,”  answered  Caderousse. 
l “ And  you  ars  a fool  fos*  having  said  anything  about  it,”  said  a 


THE  CC'/NT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 

Vbicfc  from  the  top  of  the  stairs.  14  Why  should  you  meddle  with 
What  does  not  concern  you  ? ” 

The  two  male  speakers  turned  round  quickly,  and  perceived 
the  sickly  countenance  of  La  Carconte  leaning  over  the  rail  of  the 
staircase  ; attracted  by  the  sound  of  voices,  she  had  feebly 
dragged  herself  down  the  stairs,  and,  seated  on  the  lower  step,  she 
had  listened  to  the  foregoing  conversation. 

44  I pledge  you  my  sacred  word,  madame,”  said  the  abbe, 
P4  that  my  intentions  are  free  from  all  sorts  of  harm  or  injury  to 
you  or  yours  ; and  that  whatever  evils  may  befall  you,  they  will 
not  be  occasioned  by  my  instrumentality,  that  I solemnly  promise 
you.” 

Some  inarticulate  sounds  escaped  La  Carconte,  then  letting  her 
head,  which  she  had  raised  during  the  excitement  of  conversa- 
tion, again  droop  on  to  her  lap,  she  commenced  her  usual  anguish 
trembling,  the  result  of  her  feverish  attack,  leaving  the  two  speak- 
ers to  resume  the  conversation,  but  still  remaining  herself  so 
placed  as  to  be  able  to  hear  every  word  they  uttered.  The 
abbe  had  been  obliged  to  swallow  a draught  of  water  to  calm  the 
emotions  that  threatened  to  overpower  him.  When  he  had  suffi- 
ciently recovered  himself,  he  said  : — 44  It  appears,  then,  that  the 
miserable  old  man  you  were  telling  me  of,  was  forsaken  by  every 
one.  Surely,  had  not  such  been  the  case,  he  would  not  have  per- 
ished by  so  dreadful  a death  as  you  described.” 

4‘  Why,  he  was  not  altogether  forsaken,”  continued  Caderousse  ; 
4,for  Mercedes  the  Catalan  and  M.  Morrel  were  very  kind  to 
him  ; but  somehow  the  poor  old  man  had  contracted  a profound 
hatred  of  Fernand — the  very  person,”  added  Caderousse,  with  a 
bitter  smile,  44  that  you  named  just  now  as  being  one  of  Dantes 
faithful  and  attached  friends.  Can  a man  be  faithful  to  an- 
other whose  wife  he  covets  and  desires  for  himself?  But  Dantes 
was  so  honorable  and  true  in  his  own  nature,  that  he  believed 
eyerybody’s  professions  of  friendship.  Poor  Edmond ! he  was 
cruelly  deceived  ; but  it  was  a happy  thing  he  never  knew  it,  or 
he  might  have  found  it  more  difficult,  when  on  his  deathbed,  to 
pardon  his  enemies.  And,  whatever  people  may  say,”  continued 
Caderousse,  in  his  native  language,  which  was  not  altogether  de- 
void of  rude  poetry,  44 1 cannot  help  being  more  frightened  at  the 
idea  of  the  malediction  of  the  dead  than  the  hatred  of  the  living.” 
44  Weak-minded  coward  ! ” exclaimed  La  Carconte. 

44  Do  you,  then,  know  in  what  manner  Fernand  injured 
Dantes?”  inquired  the  abbe  of  Caderousse. 

44  Why,  what  good  would  it  do?  ” asked  Caderousse.  44  If  the 
poor  lad  were  living,  and  came  to  me  to  beg  I would  candidly  tell 
which  were  his  true  and  which  his  false  friends,  why,  perhaps,  I 
should  not  hesitate.  But  you  tell  me  he  is  no  more,  and  therefore 
can  have  nothing  to  do  with  hatred  or  revenge  ; so  let  all  such 
feelings  be  buried  with  him.” 


@5 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO : 


••  You  prefer,  then,”  said  the  aboe,  “ allowing  me  to  bestow  oft 
men  you  say  are  false  and  treacherous,  the  reward  intended  for 
faithful  friendship  ? ” 

“ That  is  true  enough,”  returned  Caderousse.  “ You  say  truly* 
the  diamond  of  poor  Edmond  was  not  meant  for  such  traitors  as 
Fernand  and  Dangiars ; besides,  what  would  it  be  to  them?  no 
more  than  a drop  of  water  in  the  ocean.” 

“ Diamond  ! ” exclaimed  La  Carconte,  rising  and  descending  to 
the  chamber  with  a tolerably  firm  step  ; “ what  diamond  are  you 
talking  about  ? ” 

“ Why,  did  you  not  hear  all  we  said?”  inquired  Caderousse, 
a<  It  is  a beautiful  diamond  left  by  poor  Edmond  Dantes,  to  be 
sold,  and  the  money  divided  among  his  father,  Mercedes,  his  be« 
trothed  bride,  Fernand,  Dangiars,  and  myself.  The  jewel  is  worth 
at  least  50,000  francs  and  might  all  be  ours — a holy  man  would 
not  deceive.” 

But  Carconte  retired  to  her  room,  reluctant,  while  her  husband 
said,  shaking  his  head  : “ The  tale  is  a sad  one — perhaps  you 

know  the  beginning  ? ’ * 

“Yes,”  aswered  the  abbe  : " Edmond  related  to  me  every- 
thing until  the  moment  he  was  arrested  in  a small  tavern  close  ic 
Marseilles.” 

“ At  La  Reserve  ! Oh,  yes  ! ” 

His  betrothal  feast  that  began  so  gaily  had  a very  sorrowful 
ending  ; a commissary  of  police,  followed  by  four  soldiers,  en- 
tered, and  Dantes  was  arrested. 

‘‘Well,  when  Dantes  was  arrested,  M.  Morrel  hastened  to  ob- 
tain the  particulars,  and  they  were  very  sad.  The  old  man  re- 
turned alone  to  his  home,  would  not  go  to  bed  at  all,  for  I was 
underneath  him  and  heard  him  walking  the  whole  night.  The 
next  day  Mercedes  went  to  implore  the  protection  of  Attorney  Ville- 
fort  ; she  did  not  obtain  it,  however,  and  went  to  visit  the  old 
man;  when  she  saw  him  so  miserable  and  heart-broken,  she 
wished  him  to  go  with  her  that  she  might  take  care  of  him  ; but 
the  old  man  would  not  consent.  He  seemed  to  dislike  seeing  me. 
One  night,  however,  I hear  his  sobs,  and  I could  not  resist  my 
desire  to  go  up  to  him,  but  when  I reached  his  door  he  was  no 
longer  weeping  but  praying. 

“ From  day  to  day  he  lived  on  alone,  and  more  and  more  soli- 
tary. M.  Morrel  and  Mercedes  came  to  see  him,  but  his  door  was 
closed ; and,  although  I was  certain  he  was  at  home  he  would  not 
make  any  answer.  Dantes  was  left  all  to  himself,  and  I only  saw 
strangers  go  up  to  him  and  come  down  again  with  some  bundle 
they  tried  to  hide  ; but  I guessed  what  these  bundles  were,  and  he 
sold  by  degrees  what  he  had  to  pay  for  his  subsistence.  At 
length,  the  poor  old  fellow  reached  the  end  of  all  he  had  ; he  owel 
three  quarters’  rent,  and  they  threatened  to  turn  him  out ; he 
begged  for  another  week,  which  was  granted  to  him.  1 went  and 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


97 


told  M.  Morrel,  and  then  ran  on  to  Mercedes.  They  both  came 
immediately,  M.  Morrel  bringing  a doctor,  and  the  doctor  said  it 
was  an  affection  of  the  stomach,  and  ordered  him  a limited  diet. 
I was  there  too,  and  I never  shall  forget  the  old  man’s  smile  at 
this  prescription.  From  that  time  he  opened  his  door,  he  had  an 
excuse  for  not  eating  any  more,  as  the  doctor  had  put  him  on  a 
diet.  M.  Morrel’s  wish  also,  who  would  fain  have  conveyed  the  old 
man  against  his  consent ; but  the  old  man  resisted,  and  cried  so, 
that  they  were  actually  frightened.  Mercedes  remained,  there- 
fore, by  his  bedside,  and  M.  Morrel  went  away,  making  a sign  to 
the  Catalane  that  he  had  left  his  purse  on  the  chimney-piece. 
But  availing  himself  of  the  nine  days’  despair  and  fasting,  the 
old  man  died,  cursing  those  who  had  caused  his  misery,  and  say- 
ing to  Mercedes, — 4 If  you  ever  see  my  Edmond  again,  tell  him  I 
die  blessing  him.’  ” 

44  This  was,  indeed,  a horrid  event,”  said  the  priest,  in  a hoarse 
voice. 

"The  more  so,  sir,  as  it  was  men’s  and  not  God’s  doing.” 
"Tell  me  of  those  men,”  said  the  abbe,  " and  remember  too,”  he 
added,  in  a voice  that  was  nearly  menacing  in  its  tone,  " you  have 
promised  to  tell  me  everything.  Tell  me,  therefore,  who  are  these 
men  who  have  killed  the  son  with  despair,  and  the  father  with 

famine  ? ” " Two  men  jealous  of  him,  sir  ; one  from  love,  and 

the  other  ambition, — Fernand  and  Danglars.  They  denounced 
Edmond  as  a Bonapartist  agent.  Danglars  wrote  the  denuncia- 
tion with  his  left  hand,  that  his  writing  might  not  be  recognized, 
and  Fernand  put  it  in  the  post.  They  had  made  me  drink  to  such 
an  excess  that  I nearly  lost  all  perception.  I said  all  that  a man 
in  such  a state  could  say ; but  they  both  assured  me  that  it  was  a 
jest  they  were  carrying  on,  and  perfectly  harmless.” 

" Next  day — next  day,  sir,  you  must  have  seen  plain  enough 
what  they  had  been  doing,  yet  you  said  nothing,  though  you  were 

present  when  Dantes  was  arrested.” "Yes,  sir,  I w as  there, 

and  very  anxious  to  speak  ! but  Danglars  restrained  me.  ‘ If  he 
should  really  be  guilty,'  said  he,  4 and  did  really  put  in  at  Elba  ; 
if  he  is  really  charged  with  a letter  for  the  Bonapartist  committee 
at  Paris,  and  if  they  find  this  letter  upon  him,  those  who  have  sup- 
ported him  will  pass  for  his  accomplices.’  I confess  I had  my  fears, 
in  the  state  in  which  politics  then  were,  and  1 held  my  tongue.  It 
v^as  cowardly,  I confess,  but  it  was  not  criminal.” 

There  was  a brief  silence  ; the  abbe  rose  and  paced  up  and 
down  pensively,  and  then  resumed  his  seat.  " You  have  two  or 
three  times  mentioned  a M.  Morrel,”  he  said  ; " wdio  v*as  he  ? ” 

< "The  owner  of  the  Pharaoh  and  employer  of  Dantes.” 

44  And  what  part  did  he  play  in  this  sad  drama?  ” inquired  the 

abb6. 

"The  part  of  an  honest  man,  full  of  courage  and  real  regard. 
Twenty  times  he  interceded  for  Edmond,  When  the  emperor  re- 

7 


98 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


turned,  lie  wrote,  implored,  threatened,  and  so  energetically,  that 
on  the  second  restoration  he  was  persecuted  as  a Bonapartist. 
Ten  times,  as  I told  you,  he  came  to  see  Dantes*  father,  and 
offered  to  receive  him  in  his  own  house  ; and  the  night  or  two  be- 
fore his  death,  as  I have  already  said,  he  left  his  purse  on  the 
mantelpiece,  with  which  they  paid  the  old  man’s  debts,  and 
buried  him  decently  ; and  then  Edmond’s  father  died,  as  he  had 
lived,  without  doing  harm  to  any  one,  I have  the  purse  still  by 
me — a large  one,  made  of  red  silk.’* 

“And,”  asked  the  abbe,  “is  M,  Morrel  still  alive?” 

“ Yes,”  replied  Caderousse. 

“In  this  case,”  replied  the  abb6,  “he  should  be  rich  and 
happy,”  Caderousse  smiled  bitterly.  “Yes,  happy  as  myself,” 
said  he.  After  five-and-twenty  years  of  labor,  after  a most 
honorable  name  in  the  trade  of  Marseilles,  M.  Morrel  is  utterly 
ruined  . he  has  lost  five  ships  in  two  years,  has  suffered  by  the 
bankruptcy  of  three  large  houses,  and  his  only  hope  now  is  in 
that  very  Pharaoh  which  poor  Dantes  commanded,  and  expected 
from  the  Indies  with  a cargo  of  cochineal  and  indigo.  If  this 

ship  founders,  like  the  others,  he  is  a ruined  man.” “ And  has 

the  unfortunate  man  wife  or  children  ? ” inquired  the  abbe. 

“ Yes,  he  has  a wife,  who  in  all  this  behaved  like  an  angel ; he 
has  a daughter,  who  was  about  to  marry  the  man  she  loved,  but 
whose  family  will  not  allow  him  to  wed  the  daughter  of  a ruined 
man  ; he  has,  besides,  a son,  a lieutenant  in  the  army  ; and,  as 
you  may  suppose,  all  this,  instead  of  soothing,  doubles  his  grief. 
If  he  were  alone  in  the  world  he  would  blow  out  his  brains,  and 
there  would  be  an  end.” 

“ Horrible  ! ” ejaculated  the  priest. 

“And  it  is  thus  Heaven  recompenses  virtue,  sir,”  added  Cade- 
rousse. “ You  see,  I,  who  never  did  a bad  action  but  that  I have 
told  you  of — am  in  destitution,  seeing  my  poor  wife  die  of  a fever, 
unable  to  do  anything  in  the  world  for  her  ; I shall  die  of  hunger, 
as  old  Dantes  did,  whilst  Fernand  and  Danglars  are  rolling  in 
wealth.” 

“ How  is  that  ? ” 

“ Because  all  their  malpractices  have  turned  to  luck,  while 
nonest  men  have  been  reduced  to  misery.” 

“What  has  become  of  Danglars,  the  instigator,  and  therefore 
the  most  guilty  ? ” 

“ Why,  he  left  Marseilles,  and  was  taken,  on  the  recommenda- 
tion of  Mu  Morrel,  who  did  not  know  his  crime,  as  cashier  into  a 
Spanish  bank.  During  the  war  with  Spain  he  was  employed  in  the 
-commissariat  of  the  French  army,  and  made  a fortune  ; then  with 
that  money  he  speculated  in  the  funds,  and  trebled  or  quadrupled 
his  capital ; and,  having  first  married  his  banker’s  daughter,  who 
left  him  a widower,  he  has  married  a second  time,  a widow,  Z 
Mdme.  de  Nargonne,  daughter  of  Servieux,  the  king’s  chamber* 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


99 


tain,  in  high  favor  at  court.  He  is  a millionaire,  and  Baron 
Danglars,  with  mansion,  horses  in  his  stables,  footmen  in  his  ante- 
chamber, and  I know  not  how  many  hundreds  of  thousands  in  his 
strong-box.  ” 

"Ah!”  said  the  abbe,  with  a peculiar  tone,  "he  is  happy. 
And  Fernand?” "Fernand!  He  has  both  fortune  and  posi- 

tion— both.” 

"Some  days  before  the  return  of  the  emperor,  Fernand  was 
drawn  in  the  conscription.  The  Bourbons  left  him  quietly  enough 
at  the  Catalans,  but  Napoleon  returned,  an  extraordinary  muster 
was  determined  on,  and  Fernand  was  compelled  to  join. 
Fernand  was  enrolled  in  the  active  forces,  went  to  the  frontier  with 
his  regiment,  and  was  at  the  battle  of  Ligny.  The  night  after  that 
battle  he  was  sentry  at  the  door  of  a general  who  carried  on  a 
secret  correspondence  with  the  enemy.  That  same  night  the‘  gen- 
eral was  to  go  over  to  the  English.  He  proposed  to  Fernand  to 
accompany  him,  Fernand  agreed,  deserted,  and  followed  the  gen- 
eral. That  which  would  have  brought  Fernand  to  a court-martial 
if  Napoleon  remained  on  the  throne,  served  for  his  recommenda- 
tion to  the  Bourbons.  He  returned  to  France  with  the  epaulette 
of  sub-lieutenant,  and  as  the  protection  of  the  general,  who  is  in 
the  highest  favor,  was  accorded  to  him,  he  was  a captain  in  1823, 
during  the  Spanish  war — that  is  to  say,  at  the  time  w'hen  Danglars 
made  his  early  speculations.  Fernand  w^as  a Spaniard,  and 
being  sent  to  Spain  to  ascertain  the  feeling  of  his  fellow-country- 
men, found  Danglars  there,  became  on  very  intimate  terms  with 
him,  and,  rendered  such  services  in  this  brief  compaign  that, 
after  the  taking  of  Trocadero,  he  was  made  colonel,  and  received 
the  title  of  count  and  officer  of  the  Legion  of  Honor.  The  war 
with  Spain  being  ended,  Fernand’s  career  was  checked  by  the 
long  peace  which  seemed  likely  to  endure  throughout  Europe. 
Greece  only  had  risen  against  Turkey,  and  had  begun  her  war  of 
independence  ; Fernand  obtained  leave  to  go  and  serve  in  Greece, 
still  having  his  name  kept  on  the  rolls.  Some  time  after,  it  was 
stated  that  the  Count  of  Morcerf  (the  name  he  bore)  had  entered 
the  service  of  Ali  Pacha  with  the  rank  of  instructor-general.  Ali 
Pacha  was  killed,  as  you  know  ; but  before  he  died  he  recom- 
pensed the  services  of  Fernand  by  leaving  him  a considerable 
sum,  with  which  he  returned  to  France,  when  his  rank  of  lieuten- 
ant-general was  confirmed.  He  possesses  a magnificent  house 
— No.  27,  Rue  du  Helder,  Paris.” 

The  abbe  hesitated,  then,  making  an  effort  over  himself,  he  said, 
"And  Mercedes — they  tell  me  that  she  has  disappeared  ? ” 

" Disappeared,”  said  Caderousse,  " yes,  as  the  sun  disappears, 
to  rise  the  next  day  wfith  still  more  splendor.  Mercedes  is  at  this 
moment  one  of  the  greatest  ladies  in  Paris,”  replied  Caderousse. 
" In  the  midst  of  her  despair,  a fresh  trouble  overtook  her.  This 
«raa  the  departure  of  Fernand  —whose  crime  she  did  not  know,  and 


£00 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


whom  she  regarded  as  her  brother.  Fernand  went,  and  Merc6d&* 
remained  alone. 

“ Fernand,  when  he  learned  the  old  man’s  death,  returned.  He 
was  now  a lieutenant.  At  his  first  coming  he  had  not  said  a word 
of  love  to  Mercedes  ; at  the  second  he  reminded  her  that  he  loved 
her.  Mercedes  begged  for  six  months  more  to  expect  and  bewail 
Edmond.  Then  the  marriage  took  place  in  the  church  of  Accoules. 

A week  after  the  wedding  they  left  Marseilles.” “ Did  you  ever 

see  Mercedes  again,”  inquired  the  priest. 

“ Yes,  during  the  war  of  Spain,  at  Perpignan,  when  Fernand 
had  left  her  ; she  was  attending  to  the  education  of  her  son,  little 
Albert.  She  is  rich,  a countess,  and  yet  she  is  not  happy,”  said 
Caderousse.  06  When  I found  myself  very  wretched,  I thought  my 
old  friends  would,  perhaps,  assist  me.  So  I went  to  Danglars,  who 
would  not  even  receive  me.  I called  on  Fernand,  who  sent  me  a 
hundred  francs  by  his  valet-de-chambre.” 

“ Then  you  did  not  see  either  of  them?  ” 

“ No  " but  Mdme*  de  Morcerf  saw  me.  As  I went  away  a purse 
fell  at  my  feet — it  contained  five-and-twenty  louis ; I raised  my 
head  quickly,  and  saw  Mercedes,  who  shut  the  blinds  directly.” 

“ And  Mn  de  Villefort?”  asked  the  abbe. “Oh,  he  never 

was  a friend  of  mine.  I only  know  that  some  time  after  having  ar- 
rested hi?  v he  married  Mdlle.  Saint-Meran,  and  soon  after  left 
Marseilles ; no  doubt  but  he  has  been  as  lucky  as  the  rest ; no 
doubt  he  is  rich  as  Danglars,  as  high  in  station  as  Fernand.  I 
only ^ as  yon  see,  have  remained  poor,  wretched,  and  forgotten.” 

00  You  i mistaken,  my  friend,”  replied  the  abbe:  “God  may 
seem  S'  lOtlmes  to  forget  for  a while,  whilst  His  justice  reposes,  but 
there  always  comes  a moment  when  He  remembers — and  behold ! 
a proof*0"  Ashe  spoke,  the  abbe  took  the  diamond  from  his  pocket, 
and  giving  if  to  Caderousse,  sgad, — “ Here,  my  friend,  take  this 
diamond,  it*  ic,  jourSo” 

cc  Wheat  l Tor  me  only  ? ” cried  Caaerousse  ; “ ah ! sir,  do  not  jest 
with  m. ! ps 

ac  In  xc'hange,0*  he  continued,  “ give  me  the  red  silk  purse  that 
M.  M rrel  leat  on  old  Dantes’  chimney-piece,  and  which  you  tell 
me  is  still  an  your  hands.  May  this  money  profit  you  ! Adieu  ! I 
go  far  from  nen  who  thus  so  bitterly  injure  each  other.”  The 
abbe  with  difficulty  got  away  from  the  enthusiastic  thanks  of 
Caderousse,  opened  the  door  himself,  got  out  and  mounted  his 
horse,  one.  more  saluted  the  innkeeper,  who  kept  uttering  his  loud  ^ 
farewells,,  and  then  returned  by  the  road  he  had  traveled  in  com*/ 
ingo  When  Caderousse  turned  round,  he  saw  behind  him  La 
Carconte,  paler  and  trembling  more  than  ever. 

Fifty  thousand  francs ! ” muttered  she  ; u it  is  a large  sum  of 
money,  but  k as  not  a fortune.’1 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR/STO. 


lOl 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE  PRISON  REGISTER. 

The  day  after,  a man  of  about  thirty,  dressed  in  a bright  blue 
frock-coat,  nankeen  trousers,  and  a white  waistcoat,  having  the 
appearance  and  accent  of  an  Englishman,  presented  himself  be- 
fore the  mayor  of  Marseilles. 

“ Sir,”  said  he,  “I  am  chief  clerk  of  Messrs.  Thomson  and 
French,  of  Rome.  We  are,  and  have  been  these  ten  years,  con- 
nected with  the  house  of  Morrel  and  Son,  of  Marseilles.  We  have 
a hundred  thousand  francs  or  thereabouts  engaged  in  speculation 
wilh  them,  and  we  are  a little  uneasy  at  reports  that  have  reached 
us  that  the  firm  is  on  the  eve  of  ruin.  I have  come,  therefore,  ex- 
press from  Rome,  to  ask  you  for  information  as  to  this  house.” 

“Sir,”  replied  the  mayor,  “I  know  very  well  that  during  the 
last  four  or  five  years,  misfortune  seems  to  pursue  M.  Morrel.  Hfr 
has  lost  four  or  five  vessels,  and  suffered  by  three  or  four  bank* 
ruptcies  ; but  it  is  not  for  me,  although  I am  a creditor  myself  tty 
the  amount  of  ten  thousand  francs  to  give  any  information  as  to 
the  state  of  his  finances.  Ask  of  me,  as  mayor,  what  is  my  opinioh 
of  M.  Morrel,  I shall  say  he  is  a man  honorable  to  the  last  degree, 
and  who  has  up  to  this  time  fulfilled  every  engagement  with  scrupu* 
lous  punctuality  This  is  all  I can  say,  sir  : if  you  wish  to  learn 
more,  address  yourself  to  Boville,  the  inspector  of  prisons,  No.  15, 
Rue  de  Nouailles  ; he  has,  I believe,  two  hundred  thousand  francs 
in  the  hands  of  Morrel,  and  if  there  be  any  grounds  for  apprehen- 
sion, as  this  is  a greater  amount  than  mine,  you  will  most  probably 
find  him  better  informed  than  myself.” 

The  Englishman  seemed  to  appreciate  this  extreme  delicacy, 
made  his  bow,  and  went  away  towards  the  street  mentioned. 
.Boville  was  in  his  private  room,  and  the  Englishman,  on  perceiv- 
ing him,  made  a gesture  of  surprise,  which  seemed  to  indicate  that 
it  was  not  the  first  time  he  had  been  in  his  presence.  As  to  M.  de 
Boville,  he  was  in  such  a state  of  despair,  that  it  was  evident  all 
the  faculties  of  his  mind,  absorbed  in  the  thought  which  occupied 
him  at  the  moment,  did  not  allow  either  his  memory  or  his  im- 
agination to  stray  to  the  past.  The  Englishman,  with  the  coolness 
of  his  nation,  addressed  him  in  terms  nearly  similar  to  those  with 
which  he  had  accosted  the  mayor  of  Marseilles.  “ Oh,  sir,”  ex- 
claimed Boville,  “ your  fears  are  unfortunately  but  too  well 
founded,  and  you  see  before  you  a man  in  despair.  I had  informed 
M.  Morrel  of  my  desire  to  have  payments  punctually,  and  he  has 


1 02 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


been  here  within  the  last  half-hour  to  tell  me  that  if  his  ship,  the 
Pharaoh , did  not  come  into  port  on  the  15th,  he  would  be  wholly 
unable  to  make  his  payment.  I consider  it  lost.” 

“ Well,  then,  I will  buy  it  of  you  ! ” 

“ But  at  a tremendous  discount,  of  course?  ” 

“ No,  for  two  hundred  thousand  francs.  Our  house,”  added  the 
Englishman,  with  a laugh,  “ does  not  do  things  in  that  way.” 

The  Englishman  drew  from  his  pocket  a bundle  of  bank-notes, 
twice  the  sum  M.  de  Boville  feared  to  lose.  A ray  of  joy  passed 
across  M.  de  Boville’s  countenance,  yet  he  made  an  effort  over  him- 
self, and  said, — “Sir,  I ought  to  tell  you  that,  in  all  probability, 
you  will  not  have  six  per  cent,  of  this  sum.” 

“ Sir,”  replied  the  Englishman,  laughing,  “ I am  like  my  house, 
and  do  not  do  such  things — no,  the  commission  I ask  is  quite  dif- 
ferent.” 

“Name  it,  sir,  I beg.” “You  are  the  inspector  of  prisons, 

keeping  registers  and  notes  relative  to  the  prisoners?  ” 

“ There  are  special  reports  on  every  prisoner.” 

“ Well,  sir,  I was  educated  at  Rome  by  a poor  priest,  who  dis- 
appeared suddenly.  I have  since  learned  that  he  was  confined  in 
Castle  If,  and  I should  like  to  learn  some  particulars  of  his  death.” 
“ What  was  his  name  ? ” 

“The  Abbe  Faria.” 

“Oh,  I recollect  him  perfectly/’  cried  M.  de  Boville;  “he  was 
crazy.  He  pretended  to  know  of  an  immense  treasure,  and  offered 
vast  sums  to  government  if  they  would  liberate  him.” 

“ Poor  devil ! is  he  dead  ? ’ * 

“ Yes,  sir  ; five  or  six  months  ago,  last  February.” 

“ You  have  a good  memory,  sir,  to  recollect  dates  so  well!  ” 

“ I recollect  this,  because  the  poor  devil’s  death  was  accom- 
panied by  a singular  circumstance.” 

“ May  I ask  what  that  was?  ” said  the  Englishman,  with  an  ex- 
pression of  curiosity  in  his  phlegmatic  countenance. 

“ Oh  dear,  yes,  sir  ; the  abbe’s  dungeon  was  forty  or  fifty  feet 
distant  from  that  of  an  old  agent  of  Bonaparte’s — a very  resolute 
and  very  dangerous  man.  It  appears,  sir,  that  this  Edmond  Dantes 
had  procured  tools,  or  made  them,  for  they  found  a passage  by 
which  the  prisoners  communicated,  formed,  no  doubt,  with  an  in- 
tention of  escape  ; but  unfortunately  for  the  prisoners,  the  Abbe 
Faria  had  an  attack  of  catalepsy,  and  died.” 

“That  must  have  cut  short  the  projects  of  escape.” 

“ For  the  dead  man,  yes,”  replied  M.  de  Boville,  “but  not  for 
the  surviver,  on  the  contrary,  this  Dantes  saw  a means  of  accelerat- 
ing his  escape.  He,  no  doubt,  thought  that  prisoners  who  died  in 
the  Chateau  d’  If  were  interred  in  a burial-ground  as  usual,  and 
he  conveyed  the  dead  man  into  his  own  cell,  assumed  his  place  in 
the  sack  in  which  they  had  sewn  up  the  defunct,  and  awaited  th# 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


\03 


moment  of  interment.” “ It  was  a bold  step,  and  one  that  in- 

dicated some  courage,”  remarked  the  Englishman. 

“ As  I have  already  told  you,  sir,  he  was  a very  dangerous  man  ; 
and,  fortunately,  by  his  own  act  disembarrassed  the  government 
of  the  fears  it  had  on  his  account.” 

“ The  castle  has  no  cemetery , and  they  simply  throw  the  dead 
into  the  sea,  after  having  fastened  a thirty-six  pound  ball  to  their 
feet.  You  may  imagine  the  amazement  of  the  fugitive  when  he 
found  himself  flung  headlong  beneath  the  rocks  ! 1 should  like  to 

have  seen  his  face  at  that  moment.” 

“ And  so,”  continued  the  Englishman,  who  first  gained  his  com- 
posure, “ he  was  drowned  ? * * 

“ Unquestionably.” 

“ But  to  return  to  these  registers.” 

“So,  sir,  you  wish  to  see  all  relating  to  the  poor  abbe,  who 
really  was  gentleness  itself.” 

And  they  both  entered  M.  de  Boville’s  study.  All  was  arranged 
in  order.  The  inspector  begged  the  Englishman  to  seat  himself 
in  an  arm-chair,  and  placed  before  him  the  register  and  docu- 
ments relative  to  Castle  If,  giving  him  all  the  time  he  desired  to 
examine  it,  whilst  De  Boville  seated  himself  in  a corner,  to  read 
his  newspaper.  The  Englishman  easily  found  the  entries  relative 
to  the  Abbe  Faria  ; but  it  seemed  that  the  story  which  the  inspec- 
tor had  related  interested  him  greatly,  for  after  having  perused  the 
first  documents  he  turned  over  the  leaves  until  he  reached  the  de- 
position respecting  Edmond  Dantes.  There  he  found  everything 
arranged  in  due  order — the  denunciation,  examination,  Morrel’s 
petition,  Villefort’s  marginal  notes.  He  folded  up  the  denuncia- 
tion quietly,  and  put  it  as  quietly  in  his  pocket  ; read  the  examina- 
tion, and  saw  that  Noirtier  was  not  mentioned  in  it  ; perused,  too, 
the  application,  dated  ioth  April,  1815,  in  which  Morrel,  by  the 
deputy’s  advice,  exaggerated  with  the  best  intentions  (for  Napoleon 
was  then  on  the  throne)  the  services  Dantes  had  rendered  to  the 
imperial  cause — services  which  Villefort’s  certificates  rendered  in- 
dispensable. Then  he  saw  through  all.  This  petition  to  Napo- 
leon, kept  back  by  Villefort,  had  become,  under  the  second  restor- 
ation, a terrible  weapon  against  him  in  the  lawyer’s  hands.  He 
was  no  longer  astonished  when  he  searched  on  to  find  in  the  regis- 
ter this  note,  placed  in  a bracket  against  his  name  : 

f An  inveterate  Bonapartist  ; took  an  active 

Edmond  Dantes,  J Pfrt,in  ‘h.e  return  from  the  Isle  of  Elba. 

j To  be  kept  in  complete  solitary  confinement, 
[ and  to  be  strictly  watched  and  guarded. 
Beneath  these  lines  was  written,  in  another  hand  : “See  Note 
above — nothing  can  be  done.”  He  compared  the  writing  in  the 
bracket  with  the  writing  of  the  certificate  placed  beneath  Morrel’s 
petition,  and  discovered  that  the  note  in  the  bracket  was  the  same 
writing  as  the  certificate — that  is  to  say,  were  in  Villefort’s  hand- 


104 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


writing.  As  to  the  note  which  accompanied  this,  the  Englishman 
understood  that  it  might  have  been  added  by  some  inspector,  who 
had  taken  a momentary  interest  in  Dantes’  situation,  but  who  had, 
from  the  remarks  we  have  quoted,  found  it  impossible  to  give  any 
effect  to  the  interest  he  experienced. 

As  we  have  said,  the  inspector,  from  discretion,  and  that  he 
might  not  disturb  the  Abbe  Faria’s  pupil  in  his  researches,  had 
seated  himself  in  a corner,  and  was  reading.  He  did  not  see  the 
Englishman  fold  up  and  place  in  his  pocket  the  denunciation  writ- 
ten by  Danglars  which  had  the  post-mark  of  Marseilles,  2nd 
March,  delivery  6 o’clock  p.  m.  But  it  must  be  said  that  if  he  had 
seen  it,  he  attached  so  small  importance  to  this  scrap  of  paper,  and 
so  great  importance  to  his  200,000  francs,  that  he  would  not  have 
opposed  what  the  Englishman  did,  how  incorrect  it  might  be. 

“Thanks!  ” said  the  latter,  closing  the  register  with  a noise, 
“ I have  all  I want  ; now  it  is  for  me  to  perform  my  promise.  Give 
me  a simple  assignment  of  your  debt  ; acknowledge  therein  the 
receipt  of  the  cash,  and  I will  hand  you  over  the  money.”  He 
rose,  gave  his  seat  to  M.  de  Boville,  who  took  it  without  ceremony, 
quickly  drew  out  the  required  assignment,  whilst  the  Englishman 
**ras  counting  out  the  bank-notes  on  the  other  side  of  the  desk. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  FIRM  OF  MORREL  AND  SON. 

Any  one  who  had  quitted  Marseilles  a few  years  previously,  well 
acquainted  with  the  interior  of  Morrel’s  house,  and  had  returned 
at  this  date,  would  have  found  a great  change.  In  the  deserted 
corridor  and  the  empty  office,  out  of  all  the  numerous  clerks  that 
used  to  fill  the  office,  but  two  remained.  One  was  a young  man 
of  three  or  four  and  twenty,  who  was  in  love  with  M.  Morrel’s 
daughter,  and  had  remained  with  him,  spite  of  the  efforts  of  his 
friends  to  induce  him  to  withdraw  ; the  other  was  an  old  one-eyed 
cashier,  named  Codes. 

In  the  midst  of  the  distress  of  the  house,  Cocl&s  was  the  only 
one  unmoved.  But  this  did  not  arise  from  a want  of  affection,  but, 
on  the  contrary,  from  a firm  conviction.  It  seemed  as  impossible 
to  him  that  the  house  should  stop  payment,  as  it  would  to  a miller 
that  the  river  that  had  so  long  turned  his  mill  should  cease  to  flow. 

Nothing  had  as  yet  occurred  to  shake  Codes  belief ; the  last 
month’s  payment  had  been  made  with  the  most  scrupulous  exacti- 
tude ; Codes  had  detected  an  error  of  fourteen  sous  to  the  preju- 
dice of  Morrel,  and  the  same  evening  he  had  brought  them  to  M. 
Morrel,  who,  with  a melancholy  smile,  threw  them  into  an  almost 
empty  drawer,  saying : 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CPIS  TO. 


I°S 


“Thanks,  Codes  ; you  are  the  pearl  of  cashiers.” 

Codes  retired  perfectly  happy,  for  this  eulogium  of  M.  Morrel, 
himself  the  pearl  of  the  honest  men  of  Marseilles,  flattered  him 
more  than  a present.  But  since  the  end  of  the  month,  M.  Morrel 
had  passed  many  an  anxious  hour.  His  resources  were  now  ex- 
hausted. Credit,  owing  to  the  reports  afloat,  was  no  longer  to  be 
had  ; and  to  meet  the  sum  due  on  the  15th  of  the  present  month 
to  Boville,  and  that  due  on  the  15th  of  the  next  month,  Morrel 
had,  in  reality,  no  hope  but  the  return  of  the  Pharaoh,  whose  de- 
parture he  had  learnt  from  a vessel  which  had  weighed  anchor  at 
the  same  time,  and  which  had  already  arrived  in  harbor.  But 
this  vessel,  which,  like  the  Pharaoh , came  from  Calcutta,  had  ar- 
rived a fortnight,  whilst  no  intelligence  had  been  received  of  the 
Pharaoh. 

Such  was  the  state  or  things  when,  the  day  after  his  interview 
with  M.  de  Boville,  the  confidential  clerk  of  the  house  of  Thomson 
and  French,  presented  himself  at  M.  Morrel’s.  Emmanuel  re- 
ceived him  ; the  young  man  whom  every  fresh  visage  alarmed,  for 
each  fresh  visage  announced  a fresh  creditor,  who,  in  his  alarm, 
came  to  question  the  head  of  the  house.  The  young  man,  wishing 
to  spare  his  employer  the  pain  of  this  interview,  questioned  the 
new  comer ; but  the  stranger  declared  he  had  nothing  to  say  to  M. 
Emmanuel,  and  that  his  business  wras  with  M.  Morrel  in  person. 
Emmanuel  sighed,  and  summoned  Codes.  Codes  appeared,  and 
the  young  man  bade  him  conduct  the  stranger  to  M.  Morrel’ s 
apartment.  Codes  went  first,  and  the  stranger  followed  him.  On 
the  staircase  they  met  a beautiful  girl  of  sixteen  or  seventeen,  who 
looked  with  anxiety  at  the  stranger. 

“ Is  M.  Morrel  in  his  room,  mademoiselle  ? ” said  the  cashier. 

“ Yes  ; I think  so,  at  least,”  said  the  girl,  hesitatingly.  41  Go 
and  see,  Codes,  and  if  my  father  is  there,  announce  this  gentle- 
man.” 

“ It  will  be  useless  to  announce  me,  miss,”  returned  the  Eng- 
lishman. *'  M.  Morrel  does  not  know'  my  name  ; this  worthy  gen- 
tleman has  only  to  announce  the  confidential  clerk  of  the  house  of 
Thomson  and  French,  of  Rome,  wfith  whom  your  father  does  busi- 
ness.” 

The  girl  turned  pale,  and  continued  to  descend,  while  the  stran- 
ger and  Codes  continued  to  mount  the  staircase.  She  entered  the 
office  where  Emmanuel  was,  whilst  Codes,  by  the  aid  of  a key, 
opened  a door  on  the  second  staircase,  conducted  the  stranger  into 
an  antechamber,  opened  a second  door,  w'hich  he  dosed  Behind 
him,  and  after  having  left  the  clerk  alone,  returned  and  signed  to 
him  that  he  could  enter.  The  Englishman  entered,  and  founa 
Morrel  seated  at  a table,  turning  over  the  formidable  columns  of 
his  ledger,  wdiich  contained  the  list  of  his  liabilities.  At  the  sight 
of  the  stranger,  M.  Morrel  closed  the  ledger,  rose,  and  offered  a 
seat  to  the  stranger  ; and  when  he  had  seen  him  seated,  resumed 


io6 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


his  own  chair.  Fourteen  years  had  changed  the  worthy  merchant, 
who,  in  his  thirty-sixth  year  at  the  opening  of  this  story,  was  now 
in  his  fiftieth  ; his  hair  had  turned  white,  time  and  sorrow  had 
ploughed  deep  furrows  on  his  brow,  and  his  look,  once  so  firm  and 
penetrating,  was  now  irresolute  and  wandering,  as  if  he  feared  be- 
ing forced  to  fix  his  attention  on  an  idea  or  a man.  The  English- 
man looked  at  him  with  an  air  of  curiosity,  evidently  mingled  with 
interest.  “ Sir,”  said  Morrel,  whose  uneasiness  was  increased  by 
this  examination,  “ you  wish  to  speak  to  me.” 

“ Yes,  sir  ; you  are.aware  from  whom  I come?  ” 

“ The  house  of  Thomson  and  French  ; at  least,  so  my  cashier 
tells  me.” 

11  He  has  told  you  rightly.  The  house  of  Thomson  and  French 
had  300,000  or  400,000  francs  to  pay  this  month  in  France  ; and, 
knowing  your  strict  punctuality,  have  collected  all  the  bills  bearing 
your  signature,  and  charged  me  as  they  became  due  to  present 
them,  and  to  employ  the  money  otherwise.” 

“Here  is,”  said  the  Englishman,  taking  a quantity  of  papers 
from  his  pocket,  “ an  assignment  of  200,000  francs  to  our  house  by 
M.  de  Boville,  the  inspector  of  prisons,  to  whom  they  are  due. 
You  acknowledge,  of  course,  you  owe  this  sum  to  him?  *’ 

“ I do,”  said  Morrel,  whose  face  was  suffused  as  he  thought 
that,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  would  be  unable  to  honor  his 
own  signature.  “ Is  this  all?” 

" No,  I have  for  the  end  of  the  month  these  bills  which  have 
been  assigned  to  us  by  Pascal,  and  the  Wild  and  Turner,  of  Mar- 
seilles, amounting  to  nearly  55,000  francs ; in  all,  287,500 
francs.”  It  is  impossible  to  describe  what  Morrel  suffered  during 
this  enumeration.  “ I will  not,”  continued  the  other,  after  a mo- 
ment’s silence,  “ conceal  from  you,  that  whilst  your  probity  and 
exactitude  up  to  this  moment  are  universally  acknowledged,  yet 
the  report  is  current  in  Marse:lles  that  you  are  not  able  to  meet 
your  engagements.” 

At  this  almost  brutal  speech  Morrel  turned  deathly  pale. 

“Sir,”  said  he,  “up  to  this  time — and  it  is  now  more  than 
four-and-twenty  years  since  I received  the  direction  of  this  house 
from  my  father,  who  had  himself  conducted  it  for  five-and-thirty 
years — never  has  anything  bearing  the  signature  of  Morrel  and 
Son  been  dishonored.” 

“ I know  that,”  replied  the  Englishman.  “ But  as  a man  of  honor 
should  answer  another,  tell  me  fairly,  shall  you  pay  these  with  the 
same  punctuality  ? ” Morrel  shuddered,  and  looked  at  the  man, 
who  spoke  with  more  assurance  that  he  had  hitherto  shown.  “ To 
questions  frankly  put,”  said  he,  “ a straightforward  answer  should 
be  given.  Yes,  I shall  pay,  if,  as  I hope,  my  vessels  arrives 
safely  ; for  its  arrival  will  again  procure  me  the  credit  which  the 
numerous  accidents,  of  which  I have  been  the  victim,  have  de- 
prived me  ; but  if  the  Pharaoh  should  be  lost,  and  this  last  re- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO, 


I07 


source  be  gone ” The  poor  man’s  eyes  filled  with  wars. — — 

••Well,”  said  the  other,  “if  this  last  resource  fail  you?” 

••  Well,”  returned  Morrel,  “ it  is  a cruel  thing  to  be  forced  to  say, 
but,  already  used  to  misfortune,  I must  habituate  myself  to  shame. 
I fear  I shall  be  forced  to  suspend  my  payments.” 

“ What  is  that  ? ” said  the  Englishman.  “ What  is  the  mean- 
ing  of  this  noise  ? ” 

“Oh!  oh!”  cried  Morrel,  turning  pale,  “what?*'  A loud 
noise  was  heard  on  the  stairs,  of  people  moving  hastily,  and  half- 
stifled  sobs.  Morrel  rose  and  advanced  to  the  door  ; but  his 
strength  failed  him,  and  he  sank  into  a chair.  The  two  men  re- 
mained opposite  one  another.  At  this  instant  the  second  door 
opened,  and  the  girl,  her  eyes  bathed  with  tears,  appeared.  Mor- 
rel rose  tremblingly,  supporting  himself  by  the  arm  of  the  chair. 
He  would  have  spoken,  but  his  voice  failed  him.  “ Oh,  father  ! ” 
said  she,  clasping  her  hands,  “ forgive  your  child  for  being  the 
messenger  of  ill.” 

“The  Pharaoh  has  then  perished?”  said  Morrel  in  a hoarse 
voice.  The  girl  did  not  speak  ; but  she  nodded  as  she  lay  on  her 
father’s  breast. 

“ And  the  crew  ? ” asked  Morrel. 

“ Saved,”  said  the  girl  ; “ saved  by  the  crew  of  the  vessel  that 
has  just  entered  the  harbor.”  Morrel  raised  his  two  hands  to 
heaven  with  an  expression  of  resignation  and  sublime  gratitude. 
“Thanks,  my  God,”  said  he,  “at  least  Thou  strikest  but  me 
alone.”  Spite  of  his  phlegm  a tear  moistened  the  eye  of  the  Eng- 
lishman, as  all  went  out,  leaving  him  again  with  the  merchant. 

“Well,  sir,”  said  Morrel,  sinking  into  a chair,  “ you  have  heard 
all,  and  I have  nothing  further  to  tell  you.” 

“ I see,”  returned  the  Englishman,  “ that  you  wish  for  time  to 
pay?” 

“A  delay  would  save  my  honor,  and  consequently  my  life.” 

“ How  long  a delay  do  you  wish  for  ? ” Morrel  reflected.  “ Two 
months,”  said  he. 

“ I will  give  you  three,”  replied  the  stranger.  “Well,  renew 
these  bills  up  to  the  5th  of  September  ; and  on  the  5th  of  Sep- 
tember, at  eleven  o’clock  (the  hand  of  the  clock  pointed  to  eleven), 
I shall  come  to  receive  the  money.” “ I shall  expect  you,”  re- 

turned Morrel : “ and  I will  pay  you — or  I shall  be  dead.”  These 
last  words  were  uttered  in  so  low  a tone,  that  the  stranger  could 
not  hear  them.  The  bills  were  renewed,  the  old  ones  destroyed, 
and  the  poor  shipowner  found  himself  with  three  months  before 
him  to  collect  his  resources.  The  Englishman  received  his  tl  inks 
with  the  phlegm  peculiar  to  his  nation  ; and  Morrel,  overwhelm- 
ing him  with  grateful  blessings,  conducted  him  to  the  staircase. 
The  stranger  met  Julie  on  the  stairs  : she  affected  to  be  descend- 
ing, but  in  reality  she  was  waiting  for  him.  “Oh,  sir ” said 

she,  clasping  her  hand. 


io8 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CATS  TO. 


“ Mademoiselle,”  said  the  stranger,  “ one  day  you  will  receive 
a letter  signed  ‘ Sinbad  the  Sailor.’  Do  exactly  what  the  letter 
bids  you,  however  strange  it  may  appear.” 

“ Yes,  sir,”  returned  Julie. 

“It  is  well.  Adieu  ! Remain  as  pure  and  virtuous  as  you  are 
at  present,  and  I have  great  hopes  that  Heaven  will  reward  you  by 
giving  you  Emmanuel  for  a husband.” 

Julie  uttered  a faint  cry,  blushed  like  a rose,  and  leaned  against 
the  baluster,  while  the  stranger  waved  his  hand  and  went  on  down- 
stairs. 

In  the  yard  he  spied  Penelon,  boatswain  of  the  Pharaoh,  to 
whom  he  beckoned  and  said  : 

“ Come  with  me,  my  man — I have  business  with  you.” 

Penelon  disappeared  after  this  interview,  and  with  him  all  the 
crew  of  the  wreck. 

Thanks  to  the  grace,  Morrel  kept  his  head  above  water  until 
August.  Then  he  went  up  to  Paris  to  beg  a loan  of  Danglars, 
who  was  worth  millions  and  had  unlimited  credit.  He  would  not 
help  his  old  master  to  any  extent,  though  even  his  word  would 
have  saved  him. 

The  ship-owner  returned  shamed  by  the  repuke. 

The  ladies  guessed  that  they  were  in  peril : they  wrote  to  Nismcs 
where  Julie’s  brother  was  in  the  garrison  to  ask  him  over.  Be- 
sides, Maximilian  Morrel,  though  hardly  two-and-twenty,  had 
great  influence  over  his  father.  He  was  a strong-minded,  upright 
young  man.  At  the  time  when  he  decided  on  his  profession  his 
father  had  no  desire  to  choose  for  him,  but  had  consulted  young 
Maximilian’s  taste.  They  had  not  mistaken  the  gravity  of  this 
event,  for  the  moment  after  Morrel  had  entered  his  cabinet  with 
Codes,  Julie  saw  the  latter  leave  it  pale,  trembling,  and  his  feat- 
ures betraying  the  utmost  consternation.  She  would  have  ques- 
tioned him  as  he  passed  by  her,  but  the  worthy  creature  hastened 
down  the  staircase  with  unusual  precipitation,  and  only  raised  his 
hands  to  heaven  and  exclaimed,  “Oh,  what  a dreadful  misfor- 
tune ! Who  could  ever  have  believed  it ! ” A moment  after- 
wards Julie  saw  him  go  up-stairs  carrying  two  or  three  heavy  ledg- 
ers, a pocket-book,  and  a bag  of  money. 

Morrel  examined  the  ledgers,  opened  the  pocket-book,  and 
counted  the  money.  All  his  funds  amounted  to  6000  or  8000 
francs,  his  expectancies  up  to  the  5th  to  4000  or  5000,  which,  mak- 
ing the  best  of  everything,  gave  him  14,000  francs  to  meet  bills 
amounting  to  287,500  francs.  He  could  not  make  such  a proposal. 

During  the  night,  between  the  4th  and  5th  of  September,  Mdme. 
Morrel  remained  listening  for  every  sound,  and,  until  three  o’clock 
in  the  morning,  she  heard  her  husband  pacing  the  room  in  great 
agitation.  It  was  three  o’clock  when  he  threw  himself  on  the  bed. 
The  mother  and  daughter  passed  the  night  together.  They  had 
expected  Maximilian  since  the  previous  evening.  At  eight  o’clock 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


I09 


In  the  morning  Morrel  entered  their  chamber.  He  was  calm  ; but 
the  agitation  of  the  night  was  legible  in  his  pale  and  careworn 
visage.  They  did  not  dare  to  ask  him  how  he  had  slept.  Morrel 
was  kinder  to  his  wife,  more  affectionate  to  his  daughter,  than  he 
had  ever  been.  He  could  not  cease  gazing  at  and  kissing  the 
sweet  girl.  Julie,  mindful  of  Emmanuel’s  request,  was  following 
her  father  when  he  quitted  the  room,  but  he  said  to  her  sharply, — 
" Remain  with  your  mother,  dearest.” 

This  was  the  first  time  Morrel  had  ever  so  spoken,  but  he  said 
it  in  a tone  of  paternal  kindness,  and  Julie  did  not  dare  refuse 
compliance.  She  remained  at  the  same  spot  standing,  mute  and 
motionless.  An  instant  afterwards  the  door  opened,  she  felt  arms 
encircle  her,  and  a mouth  pressed  her  forehead.  She  looked  up, 
and  uttered  an  exclamation  of  joy. 

“ Maximilian  ! my  dearest  brother  ! ” she  eried.  At  these  words 
Mdme.  Morrel  rose,  and  threw  herself  into  her  son’s  arms. 
“Mother!  ” said  the  young  man,  looking  alternately  at  Mdme. 
Morrel  and  her  daughter,  “what  has  occurred — what  has  hap- 
pened ? your  letter  has  frightened  me,  and  I have  come  hither  with 
all  speed.” 

“Julie,”  said  Mdme.  Morrel,  making  a sign  to  the  young  man, 
“go  and  tell  your  father  that  Maximilian  has  just  arrived.”  The 
young  lady  rushed  out  of  the  apartment,  but  on  the  first  step  of 
the  staircase  she  found  a man  holding  a letter  in  his  hand. 

“Are  you  not  Mdlle.  Julie  Morrel?”  inquired  the  man,  with  a 
strong  Italian  accent.  “Read  this  letter,”  he  said,  handing  it  to 
her.  It  concerns  the  best  interests  of  your  father.” 

The  girl  hastily  took  the  letter  from  him.  She  opened  it  quickly 
and  read : 

“Go  this  moment  to  Median  Alley,  enter  the  house  No.  15,  ask 
the  porter  for  the  key  of  the  room  on  the  fifth  floor,  enter  it,  take 
from  the  mantelpiece  a purse  netted  in  red  silk,  and  give  it  to  your 
father.  It  is  important  that  he  should  receive  it  before  eleven 
o’clock.  You  promised  to  obey  me  implicitly.  Remember  your 
oath.  “SlNBAD  THE  SAILOR.” 

Julie  hesitated,  and  resolved  to  take  counsel.  Yet,  by  a singu- 
lar feeling,  it  was  neither  to  her  mother  nor  her  brother  that  she 
applied,  but  to  Emmanuel.  She  hastened  down  and  told  him 
what  had  occurred  on  the  day  when  the  agent  of  Thomson  and 
French  had  come  to  her  father’s,  related  the  scene  on  the  stair- 
case, repeated  the  promise  she  had  made,  and  showed  him  the 
letter.  “ You  must  go,  then,  mademoiselle.  I will  wait  you  at 
the  corner  and  if  you  are  so  long  absent  as  to  make  me  uneasy, 
I will  hasten  and  rejoin  you,  and  woe  to  him  of  whom  you  shall 
have  cause  to  complain  to  me  ! ” 

“Then,  Emmanuel,”  said  the  young  girl,  with  hesitation*  “it 


iio 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


is  your  opinion  that  I should  obey  this  invitation  ? ” “ Yes.  Did 

not  the  messenger  say  your  father’s  safety  was  in  it?  ” 

“But  what  danger  threatens  him,  then,  Emmanuel?”  she 
asked. 

“ Why,  if  to-day  before  eleven  o’clock  your  father  has  not 
found  some  one  who  will  come  to  his  aid,  he  will  be  compelled  at 
twleve  o’clock  to  declare  himself  a bankrupt.” 

“Oh,  come,  then,  come  ! ” cried  she,  hastening  away  with  the 
young  man.  During  this  time  Madame  Morrel  had  told  her  son 
everything.  He  was  thunderstruck.  Then,  rushing  hastily  out  of 
the  apartment,  he  ran  up-stairs,  expecting  to  find  his  father  in  his 
cabinet,  but  he  rapped  there  in  vain.  Whilst  he  was  yet  at  the  door 
of  the  cabinet  he  heard  the  bedroom-door  open,  turned,  and  saw  his 
father.  Instead  of  going  direct  to  his  cabinet,  M.  Morrel  had  re- 
turned to  his  bedchamber,  which  he  was  only  this  moment  quit- 
ting. Morrel  uttered  a cry  of  surprise  at  the  sight  of  his  son,  of 
whose  arrival  he  was  ignorant.  He  remained  motionless  on  the 
spot,  pressing  with  his  left  hand  something  he  had  concealed  un- 
der his  coat.  Maximilian  sprang  down  the  staircase,  and  threw 
his  arms  around  his  father’s  neck  ; but  suddenly  he  recoiled, 
and  placed  his  right  hand  on  Morrel’ s breast.  “ Father  ! ” he 
exclaimed,  turning  pale  as  death,  “ what  are  you  going  to  do  with 
the  brace  of  pistols  under  you  coat?” 

“ Maximilian,”  replied  Morrel,  looking  fixedly  at  his  son, 
“you  are  a man,  and  a man  of  honor.  Come,  and  I will  explain  to 
you.” 

And  with  a firm  step  Morrel  went  up  to  his  cabinet,  whilst  Max- 
imilian followed  him,  trembling  as  he  went.  Morrel  opened  the 
door,  and  closed  it  behind  his  son  ; then,  crossing  the  ante-room, 
went  to  his  desk,  on  which  he  placed  the  pistols,  and  pointed  with 
his  finger  to  an  open  ledger.  In  this  ledger  was  made  out  an  ex- 
act balance-sheet  of  affairs.  Morrel  had  to  pay,  within  half-an- 
hour,  287,500  francs.  All  he  possessed  was  1 5,257  francs  “Read!” 
said  Morrel.  “ Blood  washes  out  dishonor,”  said  Morrel. 

“You  are  right,  father;  I understand  you.”  Then  extending 
his  hand  toward  one  of  the  pistols,  he  said,  “ There  is  one  for  you 
and  one  for  me — thanks!”  Morrel  checked  his  hand.  “Your 
mother — your  sister ! Who  will  support  them?  ” A shudder  ran 
through  the  young  man’s  frame.  “Father,”  he  said,  “do you 
reflect  that  you  are  bidding  me  to  live?” — -“Yes,  I do  bid  you,” 
answered  Morrel ; “ it  is  you  duty.  You  have  a calm,  strong  mind, 
Maximilian.  Maximilian,  you  are  no  ordinary  man.  I desire 
netting — I command  nothing  ; I only  say  to  you,  examine  my 
position  as  if  it  were  your  own,  and  then  judge  for  yourself.” 

The  young  man  reflected  an  instant,  then  an  expression  of  sub- 
lime resignation  appeared  in  his  eyes,  and  with  a slow  and  sad 
gesture  he  took  off  his  two  epaulettes,  the  marks  of  his  rank. 
•f  Be  it  so,  then,  my  father,”  he  said,  extending  his  hand  to  Mor- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


Hi 


rel,  “die  in  peace,  my  father  ; I will  live/'  Morrel  was  about  to 
cast  himself  on  his  knees  before  his  son,  but  Maximilian  caught 
him  in  his  arms,  and  those  two  noble  hearts  were  pressed  against 
each  other  for  a moment.  “You  know  it  is  not  my  fault,”  said 
Morrel.  Maximilian  smiled.  “ I know,  father  you  are  the  most 

honorable  man  I have  ever  known.” “Good,  my  son.  And 

now  all  is  said  ; go  now  and  rejoin  your  mother  and  sister.” 

“ My  father,”  said  the  young  man,  bending  his  knee,  “bless 
me!”  Morrel  took  his  head  between  his  hands,  drew  him  toward 
him,  and  kissing  his  forehead  several  times,  said,  “Oh,  ye?, 
yes,  I bless  you  in  my  own  name,  and  in  the  name  of  three  genera- 
tions of  irreproachable  men,  who  say  by  my  voice,  ‘ The  edifice 
which  misfortune  has  destroyed,  Providence  may  be  build  up 
again.'  On  seeing  me  die  such  a death,  the  most  inexorable  will  have 
pity  on  you.  Living,  my  best  friends  would  avoid  my  house  ; dead, 
all  Marseilles  will  follow  me  in  tears  to  my  last  home.  Living, 
you  would  feel  shame  at  my  name  ; dead,  you  may  raise  your  head 
and  say,  1 1 am  the  son  of  him  you  killed,  because,  for  the  first 
time,  he  has  been  compelled  to  fail  in  his  word.'  ” 

The  young  man  uttered  a groan,  but  appeared  resigned. 

“ Have  you  no  particular  commands  to  leave  with  me,  my 
father  ? ” inquired  Maximilian,  in  a faltering  voice. 

“ The  house  of  Thomson  and  French  is  the  only  one  who,  from 
humanity,  or,  it  may  be,  selfishness — it  is  not  for  me  to  read  men’s 
hearts — have  had  any  pity  for  me.  His  agent,  who  will  in  ten 
miuutes  present  himself  to  receive  the  amount  of  a bill  of  287,500 
francs,  I will  not  say  granted,  but  offered  me  three  months.  Let 

this  house  be  the  first  repaid,  my  son,  and  respect  this  man,” 

“ Father,  I will,"  said  Maximilian. 

And  he  rushed  out  of  the  cabinet  When  his  son  had  left  him, 
Morrel  fell  back  in  his  chair,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  clock  : there 
were  seven  minutes  left,  that  was  all. 

At  this  moment  of  mortal  agony,  a damp  passed  over  his  brow, 
an  agony  stronger  than  death  clutched  at  his  heart-strings.  He 
heard  the  door  of  the  staircase  creak  on  its  hinges — the  clock 
gave  its  warning  to  strike  eleven — the  door  of  his  cabinet  opened  ; 
Morrel  did  not  turn  round — he  expected  these  words  of  Coclia, 
“The  agent  of  Thomson  and  French.” 

He  placed  the  muzzle  of  the  pistol  between  his  teeth.  Suddenly 
he  heard  a cry— it  was  his  daugher’s  voice.  He  turned  and  saw 
Julie.  The  pistol  fell  from  his  hands.  “My  father!  " cried  the 
girl,  out  of  breath,  and  half  dead  with  joy — “saved!  you  are 
saved  ! ” And  she  threw  herself  into  his  arms,  holding  in  her  «3& 
tended  hand  a red  netted  silk  purse. 

“ Saved  ! my  child  ! " said  Morrel ; “ what  do  you  mean  i?5# 

“ Yes,  saved— saved  ! see,  see  ! " said  she. 

Morrel  took  the  purse,  and  started  as  he  did  so,  for  a vague  re* 
nnembrance  reminded  him  that  it  once  belonged  to  himself,  fa 


i 12 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


one  end  was  the  bill  for  the  287,500  francs  receipted,  and  at  the 
other  end  was  a diamond  as  large  as  a hazel-nut,  with  these  words 
on  a small  slip  of  parchment : 

“Julie’s  Dowry.” 

Morrel  passed  his  hand  over  his  brow  ; it  seemed  to  him  a 
dream.  At  this  moment  the  clock  struck  eleven.  The  sound  vi- 
brated as  if  each  stroke  of  the  hammer  struck  on  Morrel’ s heart. 
“ Explain,  my  child,”  he  said,  “ explain — where  did  you  find  this 
purse  ? ” 

“In  a house  in  Median  Alley,  on  the  corner  of  a mantel  piece 
in  a small  room  on  the  fifth  floor. 

“ But,”  cried  Morrel,  “ this  purse  is  not  yours ! ” Julie  handed 
to  her  father  the  letter  she  had  received  in  the  morning. 

“And  did  you  go  alone?  ” asked  Morrel,  after  he  had  read 
it. 

“ Emmanuel  accompanied  me,  father.  He  was  to  have  waited 
for  me  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  Musee,  but,  strange  to  say,  he 

was  not  there  when  I returned.” “ M.  Morrel!  ” exclaimed  a 

voice  on  the  stairs — 

“It  is  his  voice  ! ” said  Julie.  At  this  moment  Emmanuel  en- 
tered his  countenance  full  of  animation  and  joy.  “The  Pharaoh  ! ’ * 
he  cried,  “they  signal  the  Pharaoh!  The  Pharaoh  is  coming  up 
the  harbor  ! ” Morrel  fell  back  in  his  chair,  his  strength  was  fail- 
ing him  ; his  understanding,  weakened  by  such  events,  refused  to 
comprehend  such  incredible,  unheard,  fabulous  facts.  But  his  son 
came  in.  “Father!”  cried  Maximilian,  “how  could  you  say 
the  Pharoah  was  lost  ? The  watch-tower  has  signalled  her,  and 
they  say  she  is  now  coming  into  port.” 

“ My  dear  friends  ! ” said  Morrel,  “ if  this  were  so,  it  must  be  a 
miracle  of  Heaven  ! Impossible  ! impossible  ! ” 

But  what  was  real  and  not  less  incredible  was  the  purse  he  held 
in  his  hand,  the  acceptance  receipted — the  splendid  diamond. 

“Ah!  sir,”  exclaimed  Codes,  “what  can  it  mean? — the 
Phamehl" 

“ Come,  my  dear,”  said  Morrel,  rising  from  his  seat,  “ let  us  go 
and  see,  and  Heaven  have  pity  upon  us  if  it  be  false  intelligence  !” 
They  all  went  out,  and  on  the  stairs  met  Mdme  Morrel,  who 
had  been  afraid  to  go  up  into  the  cabinet.  In  an  instant  they  were 
at  the  pier.  All  the  crowd  gave  way  before  Morrel.  “ The  Pha- 
raoh! the  Pharaoh ! ” said  every  voice. 

And,  wonderful  to  say,  in  front  of  the  tower  of  Saint- Jean,  was  a 
ship  bearing  on  her  stern  these  words,  painted  in  white  letters, 
“The  Pharaoh , Morrel  and  Son,  of  Marseilles.”  It  was  precisely 
resembling  the  other  Pharaoh , and  loaded,  as  that  had  been,  with 
cochineal  and  indigo.  It  cast  anchor,  brailed  all  sails,  and  on  the 
deck  was  Captain  Gaumard  giving  orders,  and  Boatswain  Peneloc 


HE  COUNT  OE  MONTE  CAYS  TO. 


113 


making  signals  to  M.  Morrel.  To  doubt  any  longer  was  impossi- 
ole ; there  was  the  evidence  of  the  senses,  and  ten  thousand  per- 
sons who  came  to  corroborate  the  testimony.  As  Morrel  and  his 
son  embraced  on  the  pier-head,  in  the  presence  and  applause  of 
the  whole  city  witnessing  this  prodigy,  a man  with  his  face  half- 
covered  by  a black  beard,  and  who,  concealed  behind  the  sentry- 
box,  watched  the  scene  with  delight,  uttered  these  words  in  a low 
tone,  “ Be  happy,  noble  heart,  be  blessed  for  all  the  good  thou 
hast  done  and  wilt  do  hereafter,  and  let  my  gratitude  rest  in  the 
shade  with  your  kindness.” 

And  with  a smile  in  which  joy  and  happiness  were  revealed,  he 
left  his  hiding-place,  and  without  being  observed,  descended  one 
of  those  flights  of  steps  which  serve  for  debarkation,  and  shouted 
“Jacopo ! ” Then  a gig  came  to  shore,  took  him  on  board,  and 
conveyed  him  to  a yacht  splendidly  fitted  up,  on  whose  deck  he 
sprung  with  the  activity  of  a sailor  ; thence  he  once  again  looked 
toward  Morrel,  who,  weeping  with  joy,  was  shaking  hands  most 
cordially  with  all  the  crowd  around  him,  and  thanking  with  a look 
the  unknown  benefactor  whom  he  seemed  to  be  seeking  in  the 
skies.  “And  now,”  said  the  unknown,  “ farewell  kindness,  hu- 
manity, and  gratitude!  Farewell  to  all  the  feelings  that  expand 
the  heart!  I have  been  Heaven’s  substitute  to  recompense  the 
good — now  the  god  of  vengeance  yields  to  me  his  power  to  punish 
the  wicked!  ” At  these  words  he  gave  a signal,  and,  as  if  only 
awaiting  this  signal,  the  yacht  instantly  put  out  to  sea. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

SINBAD  THE  SAILOR. 

Towards  the  commencement  of  the  year  1838,  two  young  gen- 
tlemen belonging  to  the  first  society  cf  Paris,  Viscount  Albert  de 
Morcerf  and  Baron  Franz  d’Epinay,  were  at  Florence.  They  had 
agreed  to  see  the  Carnival  at  Rome  that  year,  and  that  Franz, 
who  for  the  last  three  or  four  years  had  inhabited  Italy,  should 
act  as  cicero7ie  to  Albert.  They  wrote  to  Pastrini,  the  proprietor 
of  the  Hotel  de  Londres,  to  reserve  comfortable  apartments  for 
them.  Pastrini  replied  that  he  had  only  two  rooms  and  a cabinet, 
which  he  offered  at  the  low  charge  of  a louis  per  diem.  They  ac- 
cepted his  offer  ; but  wishing  to  make  the  best  use  of  the  time  that 
was  left,  Albert  started  for  Naples.  As  for  Franz,  he  remained  at 
Florence.  After  having  passed  several  days  here,  he  took  a fancy 
into  his  head,  after  having  already  visited  Corsica,  the  cradle  of 
Bonaparte,  to  visit  Elba,  the  halting-place  of  Napoleon. 

One  evening  he  cast  off  a barque  from  the  iron  ring  that  secured 
it  to  the  port  of  Leghorn,  laid  himself  down,  wrapped  in  his  cloak. 


U4 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRN  TO. 


at  the  bottom,  and  said  to  the  crew, — “To  the  isle  of  Elba  i 
The  barque  shot  out  of  the  harbor  like  a bird,  and  the  next  morn* 
ing  Franz  disembarked  at  Porto  Ferrajo,  He  traversed  theislandt 
after  having  followed  the  traces  which  the  footsteps  of  the  giant 
have  left,  and  re-embarked  for  Marciana.  Two  hours  after  he 
again  landed  at  Pianosa,  where  he  was  assured  red  partridges 
abounded.  The  sport  was  bad  ; Franz  only  succeeded  in  killing 
a few  partridges,  and,  like  every  unsuccessful  sportsman,  he  re- 
turned to  the  boat  very  much  out  of  temper.  “ Ah,  if  your  excel- 
lency chose,”  said  the  captain,  “ you  might  have  capital  sport  on 
the  island  of  Monte-Cristo.” 

“ But  I have  no  permission  to  shoot  over  this  island.” 

“ Your  excellency  does  not  require  a permission,  for  the  island 
is  uninhabited.  It  is  a mass  of  rocks,  and  does  not  contain  an 
acre  of  land  capable  of  cultivation.” 

“ What  game  shall  I find  there  ? ” “ Thousands  of  wildgoats.” 

“ Where  can  I sleep  ? ” 

“ On  shore,  in  the  caves,  or  on  board  in  your  cloak  : besides, 
i your  excellency  pleases,  we  can  leave  as  soon  as  the  chase  is 
finished — we  can  sail  as  well  by  night  as  by  day,  and  if  the  wind 
drops  we  can  use  our  oars.” 

As  Franz  had  sufficient  time,  and  besides  had  no  longer  his 
apartments  at  Rome  to  seek  after,  he  accepted  the  proposition. 

The  captain  gave  his  orders,  the  helm  was  put  up,  and  the 
barque  was  soon  sailing  in  the  direction  of  the  island. 

The  wind  blew  strongly,  the  barque  sailed  six  or  seven  knots  an 
hour  and  they  were  within  fifteen  miles  of  Monte-Cristo  when  the 
sun  began  to  set ; half  an  hour  after,  and  the  night  was  quite 
dark. 

Suddenly,  a great  light  appeared  on  the  strand  ; land  might 
resemble  a cloud,  but  the  fire  was  not  a meteor.  " What  is  this 
light?  ” asked  he. 

“ Silence  ! ” said  the  captain  ; “ it  is  a fire.” 

“ But  you  told  me  the  isle  was  uninhabited  ? ” 

“ I said  there  was  no  fixed  habitations  on  it,  but  I said  also  that 
it  served  sometimes  as  a harbor  for  smugglers.” 

“ And  for  pirates  ? ” -“  And  for  pirates,”  returned  Gaetanos 

repeating  Franz’s  words. 

“You  think,  then,  that  this  fire  announces  unwelcome  neigh® 
bors  ? ’ ’ 

“ That  is  what  we  must  ascertain,”  returned  Gaetano. 

Gaetano  consulted  with  his  companions,  and  after  five  minutes* 
discussion  a manoeuvre  was  executed  which  caused  the  vessel  to 
rapidly  approach  the  isle,  and  was  soon  within  fifty  paces  of  it. 
Gaetano  lowered  the  sail,  and  the  barque  remained  stationary. 

The  captain  had  thrown  oft  his  vest  and  shirt,  and  secured  his 
trousers  round  his  waist ; his  feet  were  naked,  so  he  had  no  shoes 
and  stockings  to  take  off ; after  these  preparations  he  placed  his 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


M5 

fingef  on  his  lips,  and  lowering  himself  noiselessly  into  the  sea, 
swam  towards  the  shore  with  such  precaution  that  it  was  impossi- 
ble  to  hear  the  slightest  sound  ; he  could  only  be  traced  by  the 
phosphorescent  line  in  his  wake.  This  track  soon  disappeared  ; 
it  was  evident  that  he  had  touched  the  shore.  Every  one  on 
board  remained  motionless  during  half  an  hour,  when  the  same 
luminous  track  was  again  observed,  and  in  two  strokes  he  had  re- 
gained the  barque. 

“ Well ! ” exclaimed  Franz  and  the  sailors  altogether. 

“They  are  Spanish  smugglers,”  said  he;  “they  have  with 

them  two  Corsican  bandits.” “ And  what  are  these  Corsican 

bandits  doing  here  with  Spanish  smugglers  ? ” 

“ Alas  ! ” returned  the  captain,  with  an  accent  of  the  most  pro- 
found pity,  “we  ought  always  to  help  one  another.  Very  often 
the  bandits  are  hard  pressed  by  gendarmes  or  carabineers  ; well, 
they  see  a barque,  and  good  fellows  like  us  on  board,  they  come 
and  demand  hospitality  of  us  ; you  can’t  refuse  help  to  a poor 
hunted  devil  ; we  receive  them,  and  for  greater  security  we  stand 
out  to  sea.  This  costs  us  nothing,  and  saves  the  life,  or  at  least 
the  liberty,  of  a fellow-creature,  who  on  the  first  occasion  returns 
the  service  by  pointing  out  some  safe  spot  where  we  can  land  our 
goods  without  interruption.” 

“Ah!”  said  Franz,  “then  you  are  a smuggler  occasionally, 
Gaetano?” “Your  excellency,  we  must  live  somehow,”  re- 

turned the  other,  smiling  in  a way  impossible  to  describe. 

“Then  you  know  the  men  who  are  now  on  Monte-Cristo  ? ” 

“ Oh,  yes,  we  sailors  are  like  freemasons,  and  recognize  each 

other  by  signs.” 

“ And  do  you  think  we  have  nothing  to  fear  if  we  land?  ” 

“ Nothing  at  all ! ” 

“ Then,  for  the  last  time,  steer  to  Monte-Cristo.” 

Through  the  darkness  Franz,  whose  eyes  were  now  accustomed 
to  it,  distinguished  the  granite  giant  by  which  the  barque  was 
sailing,  and  then,  turning  an  angle  of  the  rock,  he  saw  the  fire 
more  brilliant  than  ever,  round  which  five  or  six  persons  were 
seated. . The  blaze  illumined  the  sea  for  a hundred  paces  round. 
Gaetano  skirted  the  light,  carefully  keeping  the  barque  out  of  its 
rays  ; then,  when  they  were  opposite  the  fire,  he  entered  into  the 
] centre  of  the  circle,  singing  a fishing  song,  of  which  his  compan- 
1 ions  sung  the  chorus.  At  the  first  words  of  the  song,  the  men  seated 
round  the  fire  rose  and  approached  the  landing-place,  their  eyes 
fixed  on  the  barque,  of  which  they  evidently  sought  to  judge  the 
force  and  divine  the  intention.  They  soon  appeared  satisfied  and 
returned  (with  the  exception  of  one,  who  remained  on  the  shore) 
to  their  fire,  at  which  a whole  goat  was  roasting.  When  the  barque 
was  within  twenty  paces  of  the  shore,  the  man  on  the  beach  made 
with  his  carbine  the  movement  of  a sentinel  who  sees  a patrol,  and 
cried,  “Who  goes  there  I’’  in  Sardinian.  Franz  coolly  cocked 


u6 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


both  barrels.  Gaetano  then  exchanged  a few  words  with  thi$ 
man,  wmcn  the  traveler  did  not  understand,  but  which  evidently 
concerned  him.  “ Will  your  excellency  give  your  name,  or  re- 
main incognito  ?"  asked  the  captain. 

“My  name  must  rest  unknown, — merely  say  I am  a Frenchman 
traveling  tor  pleasure."  As  soon  as  Gaetano  had  transmitted  this 
answer,  the  sentinel  gave  an  order  to  one  of  the  men  seated  round 
the  fire,  who  rose  and  disappeared  among  the  rocks.  Not  a word 
was  spoken,  every  one  seemed  occupied,  Frantz  with  his  disem- 
barkment,  the  sailors  with  their  sails,  tne  smugglers  with  their  goat ; 
but  in  the  midst  of  all  this  carelessness  it  was  evident  that  they 
mutually  observed  each  other.  The  man  who  had  disappeared 
returned  suddenly,  on  the  opposite  side  to  that  by  which  he 
had  left ; he  made  a sign  with  his  head  to  the  sentinel,  who, 
turning  to  the  barque,  uttered  these  words,  44  S' accomodi." 
The  sailors  did  not  wait  for  a second  invite  don  ; four  strokes  of 
the  oar  brought  them  to  the  land  ; Gaetano  sprang  to  shore,  ex- 
changed a few  words  with  the  sentinel,  then  his  comrades 
descended,  and  lastly  came  Franz’s  turn.  One  of  his  guns  was 
swung  over  his  shoulder,  Gaetano  had  the  other,  and  a sailor  held 
his  rifle  ; his  dress,  half  artist,  half  dandy,  did  not  excite  any  sus- 
picion, and,  consequently,  no  disquietude.  The  barque  was 
moored  to  the  shore,  and  they  advanced  a few  paces  to  find  a 
comfortable  bivouac  ; but,  doubtless,  the  spot  they  chose  did  not 
suit  the  smuggler  who  filled  the  post  of  sentinel,  for  he  cried  out, 
“ Not  that  way,  if  you  please." 

Gaetano  faltered  an  excuse,  and  advanced  to  the  opposite  side, 
whilst  two  sailors  kindled  torches  at  the  fire  to  light  them  on  their 
way.  They  advanced  about  thirty  paces,  and  then  stopped  at  a 
small  esplanade,  surrounded  with  rocks,  in  which  seats  had  been 
cut,  not  unlike  sentry-boxes.  Around  in  the  crevices  of  the  rocks 
grew  a few  dwarf  oaks  and  thick  bushes  of  myrtles.  Franz 
lowered  a torch,  and  saw,  by  the  light  of  a mass  of  cinders,  that 
he  was  not  the  first  to  discover  this  retreat,  which  was,  doubtless, 
one  of  the  halting-places  of  the  wandering  visitors  of  Monte- 
Cristo.  As  for  his  anticipation  of  events,  once  on  terra  firmat 
once  that  he  had  seen  the  indifferent,  if  not  friendly,  appearance 
of  his  hosts,  his  pre-occupation  had  disappeared,  or  rather,  at 
sight  of  the  goat,  had  turned  to  appetite.  He  mentioned  this  to 
Gaetano,  who  replied  that  nothing  could  be  more  easy  than  to 
prepare  a supper  when  they  had  in  their  boat  bread,  wine,  half-a- 
dozen  partridges,  and  a good  fire  to  roast  them  by.  14  Besides," 
added  he,  44  if  the  smell  of  their  roast  meat  tempts  you,  I will  go 
and  offer  them  two  of  our  birds  for  a slice." 

“You  seem  born  for  negotiation,"  returned  Franz;  “go  and 
try." 

^During  this  time  the  sailors  had  collected  dried  sticks  and 
^^nches,  with  which  they  made  a fire.  Franz  waited  impatiently. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


Ii; 

smelling  the  odor  of  the  goat,  when  the  captain  returned  with  a 

mysterious  air. Well,”  said  Franz,  “anything  new? — do 

they  refuse?” “On  the  contrary,”  returned  Gaetano,  “the 

chief  was  told  you  were  a Frenchman,  and  invites  you  to  sup  with 
him.” 

“Well,”  observed  Franz,  “this  chief  is  very  polite,  and  I see 
no  objection — the  more  so  as  I bring  my  share  of  the  supper.” 

“ Oh,  it  is  not  that — he  has  plenty,  and  to  spare,  for  supper  ; but 
he  attaches  a singular  condition  to  your  presentation  at  his 
house.” 

“ Ilis  house  ! has  he  built  one  here,  then  ? ” 

“No,  but  he  has  a very  comfortable  one,  all  the  same,  so  they 
say.” 

“You  know  this  chief,  then?  ” “ I have  heard  talk  of  him.* 

“ 111  or  well?” 

“Both.” 

“ The  devil ! — and  what  is  this  condition  ? ” 

^That  you  are  blindfolded,  and  do  not  takeoff  the  bandage 
until  he  himself  bids  you.”  Franz  looked  at  Gaetano,  to  see,  if 
possible,  what  he  thought  of  this  proposal. 

“ What  should  you  do  in  my  place  ? ” 

“I,  who  have  nothing  to  lose,  I should  go.” 

“You  would  accept?  ” 

“ Yes,  were  it  only  out  of  curiosity.” 

“ There  is  something  very  curious  about  this  chief,  then?  ” 

“ Listen,”  said  Gaetano,  lowering  his  voice,  “ I do  not  know  if 

what  they  say  is  true ” He  stopped  to  look  if  any  one  was 

near. 

“ What  do  they  say  ? ” 

“ That  this  chief  inhabits  a cavern  to  which  the  Pitti  Palace  is 
nothing.” 

“ What  nonsense!  ” said  Franz,  reseating  himself. 

“ It  is  no  nonsense  ; it  is  quite  true.  I know  their  yacht  ” 

“ And  if  this  person  be  not  a smuggler,  who  is  he  ? ” 

“ A wealthy  signor,  who  travels  for  his  pleasure.” 

“ What  is  his  name  ? ” 

“If  you  ask  him  he  says  Sinbad  the  Sailor;  but  I doubt  its 
being  his  real  name.” 

“ Have  you  ever  seen  him?  ” “ Sometimes.” 

“ What  sort  of  a man  is  he  ? ” “ Your  excellency  will  judge 

for  yourself.” 

“ Where  will  he  receive  me  ? ” 

“ No  doubt  in  the  subterranean  palace  Gaetano  told  you  of.” 

“ His  excellency  waits  for  you,”  said  a voice,  which  he  recog- 
nized as  the  sentinel’s.  He  was  accompanied  by  two  of  the 
yacht’s  crew.  Franz  drew  his  handkerehief  from  his  pocket,  and 
presented  it  to  the  man  who  had  spoken  to  him.  Without  uttering 
a word,  they  bandaged  his  eyes  with  a care  that  showed  their 


1 1 8 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  C/US  TO. 


apprehensions  of  his  committing  some  indiscretion.  Afterwards 
he  was  made  to  promise  he  would  not  make  the  least  attempt  to 
raise  the  bandage.  He  promised.  Then  his  two  guides  took  his 
arms,  and  he  advanced,  guided  by  them,  and  preceded  by  the 
sentinel.  Presently,  by  a change  in  the  atmosphere,  he  compre- 
hended that  they  were  entering  a cave  ; after  going  on  for  a few 
seconds  more  he  heard  a crackling,  and  it  seemed  to  him  as 
though  the  atmosphere  again  changed,  and  became  balmy  and 
perfumed.  At  length  his  feet  touched  on  a thick  and  soft 
carpet,  and  his  guides  let  go  their  hold  of  him.  There  was  a mo- 
ment’s silence,  and  then  a voice,  in  excellent  French,  although 
with  a foreign  accent,  said  : “ Welcome,  sir.  I beg  you  will  re- 
move your  bandage.”  It  may  be  supposed,  then,  Franz  did  not 
wait  for  a repetition  of  this  permission,  but  took  off  the  handker- 
chief, and  found  himself  in  the  presence  of  a man,  from  thirty- 
eight  to  forty  years  of  age,  dressed  in  Tunisian  costume.  Al- 
though of  a paleness  almost  livid,  this  man  had  a remarkably 
handsome  face. 

This  pallor  was  so  peculiar,  that  it  seemed  as  though  it  were 
that  which  would  be  exhibited  by  a man  enclosed  for  a long 
time  in  a tomb,  and  unable  to  resume  the  healthy  glow  and  hue 
of  the  living.  He  was  not  particularly  tall,  but  extremely  well 
made,  and,  like  the  men  of  the  south,  had  small  hands  and  feet. 
But  what  astonished  Franz,  who  treated  Gaetano’s  description  as 
a fable,  was  the  splendor  of  the  apartment.  The  host  gave  Franz 
time  for  his  surprise,  and,  moreover,  rendered  him  look  for  look, 
not  even  taking  his  eyes  off  him.  “ Sir,”  he  said  after  some 
pause,  “ a thousand  excuses  for  the  precaution  taken  in  your  in- 
troduction hither  ; but  as,  during  the  greater  portion  of  the  year, 
this  island  is  deserted,  if  the  secret  of  this  abode  were  discovered, 
I should,  doubtless,  find  on  my  return  my  temporary  retirement  in 
a state  of  great  disorder,  which  would  be  exceedingly  annoying, 
not  for  the  loss  it  occasioned  me,  but  because  I should  not  have 
the  certainty  I now  possess  of  Separating  myself  from  all  the  rest 
of  mankind  at  pleasure.  Let  me  now  endeavor  to  make  you  for- 
get this  temporary  unpleasantness,  and  offer  you  what  no  doubt 
you  did  not  expect  to  find  here— that  is  to  say,  a tolerable  supper 
and  pretty  comfortable  beds.  But  such  as  is  my  hermitage,  it  is 
at  your  disposal ; such  as  is  my  supper,  it  is  yours  to  share,  if  you 
will.  Ali,  is  the  supper  ready?”  At  this  moment  the  tapestry 
moved  aside,  and  a Nubian,  black  as  ebony,  and  dressed  in  a 
plain  white  tunic,  made  a sign  to  his  master  that  all  was  prepared. 
“ Now,”  said  the  unknown  to  Franz,  “ I do  not  know  if  you  are 
of  my  opinion,  but  I think  nothing  is  more  annoying  than  to  re- 
main two  or  three  hours  without  knowing  by  name  how  to  address 
one  another.  Pray  observe,  that  I too  much  respect  the  laws  of 
hospitality  to  ask  your  name  or  title.  I only  request  you  to  give 
me  one  by  which  I may  have  the  pleasure  of  addressing  you.  As 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 119 

/or  myself,  that  I may  put  you  at  your  ease,  I tell  you  that  I am 
generally  called  * Sinbad  the  Sailor.’  ” 

“And  I,”  replied  Franz,  “will  tell  you,  as  I only  require  his 
wonderful  lamp  to  make  me  precisely  like  Aladdin,  that  I see  no 
reason  why  at  this  moment  I should  not  be  called  Aladdin.  That 
will  keep  us  from  going  away  from  the  East,  whither  I am  tempted 

to  think  I have  been  conveyed  by  some  good  genius.” “ Well, 

then,  Signor  Aladdin,”  replied  the  singular  Amphitryon,  “you 
heard  our  repast  announced  ; will  you  now  take  the  trouble  to 
enter  the  dining-room,  your  humble  servant  going  first  to  show 
the  way?”  At  these  words,  moving  aside  the  tapestry,  Sinbad 
preceded  his  guest.  Franz  proceeded  from  one  enchantment  to 
another  ; the  table  was  splendidly  covered,  and  once  convinced 
of  this  important  point,  he  cast  his  eyes  around  him.  The  hall  was 
scarcely  less  striking  than  the  boudoir  he  had  just  left ; it  was 
entirely  of  marble.  The  supper  consisted  of  a roast  pheasant, 
garnished  with  Corsican  blackbirds  ; a boar’s  ham,  a quarter  of  a 
kid,  a glorious  turbot,  and  a gigantic  lobster.  Between  these  large 
dishes  were  smaller  ones  containing  various  dainties.  The  dishes 
were  of  silver,  and  the  plates  of  Japanese  china. 

Franz  rubbed  his  eyes  in  order  to  assure  himself  that  this  was 
not  a dream.  Ali  alone  was  present  to  wait  at  table,  and  ac- 
quitted himself  so  admirably,  that  the  guest  complimented  his 
host  thereupon.  “ Yes,”  replied  he,  whilst  he  did  the  honors  of 
the  supper  with  much  ease  and  grace — “ yes,  he  is  a poor  devil 
who  is  much  devoted  to  me,  and  does  all  he  can  to  prove  it.  He 
remembers  I saved  his  life,  and  as  he  has  a regard  for  his  head, 
he  feels  some  gratitude  towards  me  for  having  kept  it  on  his 
shoulders.”  Ali  approached  his  master,  took  his  hand,  and 
kissed  it. 

“ And  like  the  celebrated  sailor  whose  name  you  have  assumed,” 
he  said,  by  way  of  changing  the  conversation,  “ you  pass  your  life 

in  traveling?  ” “ Yes.  I made  a vow  at  a time  when  I little 

thought  I should  ever  be  able  to  accomplish  it,”  said  the  unknown, 
with  a singular  smile  ; “ and  I made  some  others  also,  which  I 
hope  I may  fulfil  in  due  season.”  Although  Sinbad  pronounced 
these  words  with  much  calmness,  his  eyes  darted  gleams  of  singu- 
lar ferocity. 

“You  have  suffered  a great  deal,  sir?  ” said  Franz,  inquiringly. 

Sinbad  started  and  looked  fixedly  at  him,  as  he  replied,  “ What 

makes  you  suppose  so?  ” “ Everything!  ” answered  Franz, — 

“ your  voice,  your  look,  your  pallid  complexion,  and  even  the  life 
you  lead,  you  seem  to  me  like  a man  who,  persecuted  by  society, 

has  a fearful  account  to  settle  with  it.” “Ah!”  responded 

Sinbad,  laughing  with  his  singular  laugh,  which  displayed  his 
sharp  teeth.  “You  have  not  guessed  rightly  ! Such  as  you  see 
me  I am,  a sort  of  philosopher,  and  one  day  perhaps  I shall  go  to 
Paris  to  rival  your  philanthropists.” 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


iss 

44  And  Will  that  be  the  first  time  you  ever  took  that  journey  ? 99 

44  Yes,  it  will ! I must  seem  to  you  by  no  means  curious,  but  I 
assure  you  that  it  is  not  my  fault  I .have  delayed  it  so  long — it  will 
happen  one  day  or  the  other." 

44  I should  like  to  be  there  at  the  time  you  come,  and  I will 
endeavor  to  repay  you,  as  far  as  lies  in  my  power,  for  your  liberal 
hospitality  displayed  to  me  at  Monte-Cristo.” 

, 41 1 should  avail  myself  to  your  offer  with  pleasure,’*  replied  the 

host,  “but,  unfortunately,  if  I go  there,  it  will  be,  in  all  proba- 
bility, incognito.’* 

The  supper  appeared  to  have  been  supplied  solely  for  Franz,  for 
the  unknown  scracely  touched  one  or  two  dishes  of  the  splendid 
banquet  to  which  his  guest  did  ample  justice.  Then  Ali  brought 
on  the  dessert,  or  rather  took  the  basket  from  the  hands  of  statues 
and  placed  them  on  the  table.  Between  the  two  baskets  he  placed 
a small  silver  cup,  closed  with  a lid  of  the  same.  The  cafe  with 
which  Ali  placed  this  cup  on  the  table  roused  Franz’s  curiosity. 
He  raised  the  lid  and  saw  a kind  of  greenish  paste,  something  like 
preserved  angelica,  but  which  was  perfectly  unknown  to  him.  He 
replaced  the  lid,  as  ignorant  of  what  the  cup  contained  as  he  was 
before  he  had  looked  at  it,  and  then  casting  his  eyes  towards  hi* 
host  he  saw  him  smile  at  his  disappointment.  44  You  cannot, 
guess,”  said  he,  44  what  there  is  in  that  small  vase,  can  you  ? ” 

44  No,  I really  cannot.’* 

44  Well,  then,  that  kind  of  green  preserve  is  nothing  less  than 
the  ambrosia  which  Hebe  served  at  the  table  of  Jupiter.  Are  you. 
a man  for  the  substantials,  and  is  gold  your  god  ? taste  this,  and 
the  mines  of  Peru,  Guzerat,  and  Golconda  are  open  to  you.  Are 
you  a man  of  imagination — a poet?  taste  this,  and  the  boundaries 
of  possibility  disappear  ; the  fields  of  infinite  space  open  to  you, 
you  advance  free  in  heart,  free  in  mind,  into  the  boundless  realms 
of  unfettered  reverie.  Is  it  not  tempting  what  I offer  you,  and  is  it 
not  an  easy  thing,  since  it  is  only  to  do  thus  ? look  ! *’  At  these 
words  he  uncovered  the  small  cup,  took  a tea-spoonful  of  the  magic 
marmalade,  raised  it  to  his  lips,  and  swallowed  it  slowly,  with  his 
eyes  half  shut  and  his  head  bent  backwards.  Franz  did  not  dis- 
turb him  whilst  he  absorbed  his  favorite,  but  when  he  had  finished, 
he  inquired, — 44  What,  then,  is  this  precious  stuff?  ** 

44  Did  you  ever  hear,”  he  replied,  44  of  the  Old  Man  of  the 
Mountain,  who  attempted  to  assassinate  Philip  Augustus  ? He 
reigned  over  a rich  valley  which  was  overhung  by  the  mountain 
whence  he  derived  his  picturesque  name.  In  this  valley  were 
magnificent  gardens  planted  by  Hassen-ben-Sabah,  and  in  these 
gardens  isolated  pavilions.  Into  these  pavilions  he  admitted  the 
elect  ; and  there,  says  Marco  Polo,  gave  them  to  eat  a certain 
herb,  which  transported  them  to  Paradise,  in  the  midst  of  ever- 
blooming  shrubs,  ever-ripe  fruit,  and  ever-lovely  virgins* M 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR/STO. 


121 


" Then,”  cried  Franz,  "it  is  hasheesh  ! I know  that — by  name 
^t  least.” 

" That  is  it  precisely,  Signor  Aladdin  ; it  is — the  purest  and  most 
unadulterated  of  Alexandria, — the  fhang  of  Abou-Gor,  the  cele- 
brated maker,  the  only  man,  the  man  to  whom  there  should  be 
built  a palace,  inscribed  with  these  words,  * A grateful  world  to 
the  dealer  in  happiness ' ” 

" Do  you  know,”  said  Franz,  “ I have  a very  great  inclination 
to  judge  for  myself  of  the  truth  or  exaggeration  of  your  eulogies.” 

" Judge  for  yourself,  Signor  Aladdin — taste,  guest  of  mine — taste 
the  hasheesh ! ” 

Franz’s  only  reply  was  to  take  a tea-spoonful  of  the  marvellous 
preparation,  about  as  much  in  quantity  as  his  host  had  eaten,  and 
lift  it  to  his  mouth. 

" I do  not  know  if  the  result  will  be  as  agreeable  as  you  de- 
scribe, but  the  thing  does  not  appear  to  me  as  succulent  as  you 
say.” 

" Because  your  palate  has  not  yet  attained  the  sublimity  of  the 
substances  it  flavors.  Only  eat  for  a week,  and  nothing  in  the 
world  will  seem  to  you  to  equal  the  delicacy  of  its  flavor,  which 
now  appears  to  you  sleepy  and  distasteful.  Let  us  now  go  into  the 
chamber  beside  you,  which  is  your  apartment,  and  Ali  will  bring 
us  coffee  and  pipes.”  They  both  arose,  and  whilst  he  who  called 
himself  Sinbad, — gave  some  orders  to  the  servant,  Franz  entered 
the  adjoining  apartment.  It  was  simply  yet  richly  furnished.  It 
was  round,  and  a large  divan  completely  encircled  it.  Skins  were 
strewn  in  profusion  one  on  the  other,  so  that  it  seemed  like  walk- 
ing over  the  most  mossy  turf,  or  reclining  on  the  most  luxurious 
bed.  Both  laid  themselves  down  on  the  divan  ; chibooques  with 
jasmine  tubes  and  amber  mouthpieces  were  within  reach,  and  all 
prepared  so  that  there  was  no  need  to  smoke  the  same  pipe  twice. 
Each  of  them  took  one,  which  Ali  lighted,  and  then  retired  to  pre- 
pare the  coffee.  There  was  a moment's  silence.  Ali  brought  in 
the  coffee.  "How  do  you  take  it?”  inquired  the  unknown; 
strong  or  weak,  sugar  or  none,  with  milk,  cool  or  boiling  ? As  you 

please  ; it  is  ready  in  all  ways.” " I will  take  it  a la  Turque ,” 

replied  Franz. 

"And  you  are  right,”  said  his  host;  "it  shows  you  have  a 
tendency  for  an  Oriental  life.  Ah  ! those  Orientals  ; they  are  the 
only  men  who  know  how  to  live.  As  for  me,”  he  added,  with  one 
of  those  Singular  smiles  which  did  not  escape  the  young  man, 
" when  I have  completed  my  affairs  in  Paris,  I shall  go  and  die  in 
the  East ; and  should  you  wish  to  see  me  again,  you  must  seek  me 
at  Cairo,  Bagdad,  or  Ispahan.” 

" Faith  ! ” said  Franz,  "it  would  be  the  easiest  thing  in  the 
world  ; for  I feel  eagle’s  wings  springing  out  at  my  shoulders,  and 
with  these  wings  I could  make  a tour  of  the  world  in  four-and* 
twenty  hours.” 


122 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


9t  Ah!  ah  ! it  is  the  thang  operating.  Well,  unfurl  your  wings, 
and  fly  into  superhuman  regions  ; fear  nothing,  there  is  a watch  ovet 
you  ; and  if  your  wings,  like  those  of  Icarus,  melt  before  the  sun, 
we  are  here  to  receive  you.”  He  then  said  some  Arabian  words 
to  Ali,  who  made  a sign  of  obedience  and  withdrew,  but  not  to  any 
distance.  As  to  Franz,  a strange  transformation  had  taken  place 
in  him.  All  the  bodily  fatigue  of  the  day,  all  the  pre-occupation 
of  mind  which  the  events  of  the  evening  had  brought  on,  disap- 
peared. With  his  eyes  closed  upon  all  nature  his  senses  awoke 
to  impassable  impressions,  and  he  was  under  the  painful  yet  de- 
licious enthralment  produced  by  the  hasheesh,  whose  enchantment 
had  brought  up  marvellous  and  thrilling  visions. 

When  Franz  returned  to  himself,  exterior  objects  seemed  a 
second  portion  of  his  dream.  He  found  that  he  was  in  a grotto, 
went  towards  the  opening,  and  through  a kind  of  fanlight  saw  a 
blue  sea  and  an  azure  sky.  The  air  and  water  were  shining  in  the 
beams  of  the  morning  sun  ; on  the  shore  sailors  were  sitting,  chat- 
ting and  laughing  ; and  at  ten  yards  from  them  the  bark  was  at 
anchor,  dancing  gracefully  on  the  water.  Remembrance  became 
busy  again  in  his  memory.  He  recalled  his  arrival  on  the  island, 
his  presentation  to  a smuggler  chief,  a subterranean  palace  full  of 
splendor,  an  excellent  supper,  and  a spoonful  of  hasheesh.  It 
seemed,  however,  even  in  the  very  face  of  open  day,  that  at  least 
a year  had  elapsed  since  all  these  things  had  passed,  so  deep  was 
the  impression  made  in  his  mind  by  the  dream,  and  so  strong  a 
hold  had  it  taken  of  his  imagination.  Thus  every  now  and  then 
his  fancy  placed  amidst  the  sailors,  seated  on  a rock,  or  saw  un» 
dulating  in  the  vessel,  one  of  those  shadows  which  had  shared  his 
dreams  with  their  looks  and  their  kisses.  Otherwise,  his  head  was 
perfectly  clear,  and  his  limbs  entirely  reposed  ; he  was  free  from 
the  slighest  headache  ; on  the  contary,  he  felt  a certain  degree  of 
lightness,  a faculty  of  absorbing  the  pure  air,  and  enjoying  the 
bright  sunshine  more  vividly  than  ever. 

He  went  gaily  up  to  the  sailors,  who  rose  as  soon  as  they  per- 
ceived him  ; and  the  patron,  accosting  him,  said,  “ Signor  Sinbad 
has  left  his  compliments  for  your  excellency,  and  desires  us  to  ex- 
press the  regret  he  feels  at  not  being  able  to  take  his  leave  in  per- 
son ; but  he  trusts  you  will  excuse  him,  as  very  important  business 
calls  him  to  Malaga.” 

Gaetano  pointed  in  a direction  in  which  a small  vessel  was  mak- 
ing sail  towards  the  southern  point  of  Corsica.  Franz  adjusted  his 
telescope,  and  directed  it  toward  the  bark.  Gaetano  was  not  mis- 
taken. At  the  stern  the  mysterious  stranger  was  standing  up,  look- 
ing toward  the  shore,  and  holding  a spy-glass  in  his  hand.  He  was 
attired  as  he  had  been  on  the  previous  evening,  and  waved  his 
pocket-handkerchief  to  his  guest  in  token  of  adieu.  Franz  re- 
turned the  salute  by  shaking  his  handkerchief  as  an  exchange  of 
signals.  After  a second,  a slight  cloud  of  smoke  was  seen  at  the 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


123 


item  of  the  vessel,  which  rose  gracefully  as  it  expanded  in  the  air, 
and  then  Franz  heard  a slight  report,  “ There,  do  you  hear?  ” 
observed  Gaetano  ; “ he  is  bidding  you  adieu.”  The  young  man 
took  his  carbine  and  fired  it  in  the  air,  but  without  any  idea  that 
the  noise  could  be  heard  at  the  distance  which  separated  the  yacht 
from  the  shore. 

Then  he  lost  two  hours  in  his  attempts  to  find  the  cave,  which 
were  utterly  useless.  At  the  end  of  this  time  he  gave  up  his  re- 
search, and  Gaetano  smiled. 

When  Franz  appeared  again  on  the  shore,  the  yacht  only  seem- 
ed like  a small  white  speck  on  the  horizon.  He  looked  again 
through  his  glass,  but  even  then  he  could  not  distinguish  any- 
thing. Gaetano  reminded  him  that  he  had  come  for  the  purpose 
of  shooting  goats,  which  he  had  utterly  forgotten.  He  took  his 
fowling-piece,  and  began  to  hunt  over  the  isle  with  the  air  of  a 
man  who  is  fulfilling  a duty,  rather  than  enjoying  a pleasure  ; and 
at  the  end  of  a quarter  of  an  hour  he  had  killed  a goat  and  two 
kids.  These  animals,  though  wild  and  agile  as  chamois,  were  too 
much  like  domestic  goats,  and  Franz  could  not  consider  them  as 
game.  Moreover,  other  ideas,  much  more  powerful,  occupied  his 
mind,  Sitting  on  the  spot  where  he  was  on  the  previous  evening 
when  his  mysterious  host  had  invited  him  to  supper,  he  saw  the 
little  yacht,  row  like  a sea-gull  on  the  wave,  continuing  her  flight 
towards  Corsica.  44  Why,”  he  remarked  to  Gaetano,  44  you  told 
me  that  Signor  Sinbad  was  going  to  Malaga,  whilst  it  seems  he  is 
in  the  direction  of  Porto-Vecchio.” 

44  Don't  you  remember,”  said  the  patron,  44  among  the  crew  there 
were  two  Corsican  brigands ; he  is  going  to  land  them.”  44  Ah  ! he 
is  an  individual  who  fears  neither  God  nor  devil,  they  say,  and 
would  at  any  time  run  fifty  leagues  out  of  his  course  to  do  a poor 
devil  a service.” 

44  But  such  services  as  these  might  involve  him  with  the 
authorities  of  the  country  in  which  he  practises  this  kind  of  phil- 
anthropy,” said  Franz. 

44  And  what  cares  he  for  that,”  replied  Gaetano  with  a laugh, 
44  or  any  authorities?  He  smiles  at  them.  Let  them  try  to  pursue 
him  ! why,  in  the  first  place,  his  yacht  is  not  a ship,  but  a bird, 
and  he  would  beat  any  frigate  three  knots  in  every  nine  ; and  if 
he  were  to  throw  himself  on  the  coast,  why,  ain’t  he  certain  of 
finding  friends  everywhere  ? ” 

It  was  perfectly  clear  thatthe  Signor  Sinbad,  Franz’s  host,  had  the 
honor  of  being  on  excellent  terms  with  the  smugglers  and  bandits 
along  the  whole  coast  of  the  Mediterranean,  which  placed  him 
in  a position  singular  enough.  As  to  Franz,  he-  had  no  longer 
any  inducement  to  remain  at  Monte-Cristo.  He  had  lost 
all  hope  of  detecting  the  secret  of  the  grotto  ; he  consequently 
despatched  his  breakfast,  and,  his  bark  being  ready,  he  hastened 
on  board,  and  they  were  soon  under  way.  Next  morning,  when 


124 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


the  sun  rose,  they  had  lost  sight  of  Monte-Cristo*  When  Fran* 
had  once  again  set  foot  on  shore,  he  forgot,  for  the  moment  at 
least,  the  events  which  had  just  passed,  whilst  he  finished  his  affairs 
of  pleasure  at  Florence,  and  then  thought  of  nothing  but  to  r^oin 
his  companion,  awaiting  him  at  Rome, 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

ROMAN  BANDITTI. 

An  apartment,  as  we  have  said  had  been  retained  beforehand, 
and  thus  he  had  but  to  go  to  the  hotel.  But  this  was  not  so  easy 
a matter,  for  the  streets  were  thronged  with  people,  and  Rome  was 
already  a prey  to  that  low  and  feverish  murmur  which  precedes 
all  great  events  ; and  at  Rome  there  are  four  great  events  in 
every  year — the  Carnival,  the  Holy  Week,  the  Fete  Dieu,  and  the 
St.  Peter,  The  apartment  consisted  of  two  small  rooms  and  a 
closet.  The  two  rooms  looked  on  to  the  street— a fact  which 
Pastrini  commented  upon  as  an  inappreciable  advantage.  The 
remainder  of  the  story  was  hired  by  a very  rich  gentleman,  who 
was  supposed  to  be  a Sicilian  or  Maltese ; but  the  host  was  un- 
able to  decide  to  which  of  the  two  nations  the  traveler  belonged. 
•‘Very  good,  Maitre  Pastrini,”  said  Franz;  “but  we  must  have 
some  supper  instantly,  and  a carriage  for  to-morrow  and  the 
following  days.” 

“ Be  easy,  my  dear  boy  ; they  will  come  in  due  season  ; it  is 
only  a question  of  how  much  be  charged  for  them,”  Morcerf 
then,  with  that  delighted  philosophy  which  believes  that  nothing  is 
impossible  to  a full  purse  and  well-lined  pocket-book,  supped, 
went  to  bed,  slept  soundly,  and  dreamed  he  was  racing  all  over 
Rome  at  Carnival  time  in  a coach  with  six  horses. 

The  next  morning  Franz  woke  first,  and  instantly  rang  the  bell* 
The  sound  had  not  yet  died  away  when  Pastrini  himself  en- 
tered. 

“Well,  excellency,”  said  the  landlord,  triumphantly,  and  with- 
out waiting  for  Franz  to  question  him,  “ I feared  yesterday,  when 
I would  not  promise  you  anything,  that  you  were  too  late— there 
is  not  a single  carriage  to  be  had — that  is,  from  Sunday  to  Tues- 
day evening,  but  from  now  till  Sunday  you  can  have  fifty  if  you 
please.” 

“Ah!  that  is  something,”  said  Albert;  “ to-day  is  Thursday, 
and  who  knows  what  may  arrive  between  this  and  Sunday  ? ” 

“ Ten  or  twelve  thousand  travelers  will  arrive,”  replied  Frantz, 
-•  which  will  make  it  still  more  difficult.” 

“My  friend,”  said  Morcerf,  “let  us eqjoy  the  present  without 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  12$ 

gloomy  forebodings  for  the  future.” 11  At  least  we  can  have  a 

window  ? ’ ’ 

“Ah,  a window  i ” exclaimed  Pastrini, — “utterly  impossible  , 
there  was  only  one  left  on  the  fifth  floor  of  the  Doria  Palace,  and 
that  has  been  let  to  a Russian  prince  for  twenty  sequins  a day.” 

The  two  young  men  looked  at  each  other  with  an  air  of  stupe- 
faction. 

“ Well,”  said  Franz  to  Albert,  “ do  you  know  what  is  the  best 
thing  we  can  do?  It  is  to  pass  the  Carnival  at  Venice  ; there  we' 
are  sure  of  obtaining  gondolas  if  we  cannot  have  carriages.” 

“ Ah  ! the  devil  1 no,”  cried  Albert  ; “ I came  to  Rome  to  see 
the  Carnival,  and  I will,  though  I see  it  on  stilts.” 

“Bravo!  an  excellent  idea!  We  will  disguise  ourselves  as 
monster  clowns  and  we  shall  have  complete  success.” 

“ Do  your  excellencies  still  wish  for  a carriage  from  now  to 
Sunday  morning  ? ” “I  will  do  all  I can,  and  I hope  you  will  be 
satisfied.” 

“ And  now  we  understand  each  other.” 

“When  do  you  wish  the  carriage  to  be  here?” “In  an 

hour.” 

“ In  an  hour  it  will  bt  at  the  door.” 

An  hour  after  the  vehicle  was  at  the  door  ; it  was  a hack  con- 
veyance which  was  elevated  to  the  rank  of  a private  carriage  in 
honor  of  the  occasion  ; but,  in  spite  of  its  humble  exterior,  the 
young  men  would  have  thought  themselves  happy  to  have  secured 
it  for  the  last  three  days  of  the  Carnival. 

Franz  and  Albert  descended;  the  carriage  approached  the 
palace  ; their  excellencies  stretched  their  legs  along  the  seats  : the 
the  cicerone  sprang  into  the  seat  behind.  But  Albert  did  not 
know  that  it  takes  a day  to  see  Saint  Peter’s,  and  a month  to 
study  it.  The  day  was  passed  at  Saint  Peter’s  alone.  Suddenly 
the  daylight  began  to  fade  away;  Franz  took  out  his  watch — it 
was  half-past  four.  They  returned  to  the  hotel ; at  the  door 
Franz  ordered  the  coachman  to  be  ready  at  eight.  He  wished  to 
show  Albert  the  Colosseum  by  moonlight,  as  he  had  shown  him 
St.  Peter’s  by  daylight.  When  we  show  a friend  a city  one  has 
already  visited,  we  feel  the  same  pride  as  when  we  point  out  a 
woman  whose  lover  we  have  been.  He  was  to  leave  the  city  by 
the  Porta  del  Popolo,  skirt  the  outer  wall,  and  re-enter  by  the 
Porta  San  Giovanni  ; thus  they  would  behold  the  Colosseum 
without  being  in  some  measure  prepared  by  the  sight  of  tbs 
Capitol,  the  Forum,  the  Arch  of  Septimus  Severus,  the  Temple 
of  Antonius  and  Faustina,  and  the  Via  Sacra.  They  sat  down  to 
dinner.  Maitre  Pastrini  had  promised  them  a banquet ; he  gave 
them  a tolerable  repast.  At  the  end  of  the  dinner  he  enterec  in 
person.  Franz  concluded  he  came  to  hear  his  dinner  praised, 
and  began  accordingly,  but  at  the  first  words  he  interrupted  him. 
u Excellency,”  said  he,  “ I am  delighted  to  have  your  approbate 


126 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


tion,  but  it  was  not  for  that  I came.” “ Did  you  come  to  tell 

us  you  have  procured  a carriage ?M  asked  Albert,  lighting  bis 
cigar. 

“ No  ; and  your  excellencies  will  do  well  not  to  think  of  that 
any  longer  : at  Rome  things  can  or  cannot  be  done  ; when  you  are 
told  anything  cannot  be  done,  there  is  an  end  of  it.  You  intend 
visiting  II  Co/osseo." 

“ You  mean  the  Colosseum  ? ” 

“It  is  the  same  thing.  You  have  told  your  coachman  to  leave 
the  city  by  the  Porta  del  Popolo,  to  drive  round  the  walls,  and  re* 
enter  by  the  Porta  San  Giovanni  ? Well,  this  route  is  very  dam 
gerous,  to  say  the  least.” 

“ Dangerous  ! and  why?  ” 

“ On  account  of  the  famous  Luigi  Vampa.” 

“ Pray,  who  may  this  famous  Luigi  Vampa  be  ? ” inquired  Al- 
bert. 

“ He  was  a shepherd-boy  attached  to  the  farm  of  Count  San- 
Felice,  between  Palestrina  and  the  lake  of  Gabri  , he  was  born  at 
Pampinara,  and  entered  the  count’s  service  when  five  years  old  ; 
his  father  was  also  a shepherd,  who  owned  a small  flock,  and 
lived  by  the  wool  and  the  milk,  which  he  sold  at  Rome.  When 
quite  a child,  the  little  Vampa  was  of  a most  extraordinary  ten- 
dency. He  learnt  almost  of  himself  and  by  himself  to  read  and 
write  and  to  carve  wood  excellently. 

“A  girl  of  six  or  seven — that  is,  a little  younger  than  Vampa 
— tended  sheep  on  a farm  near  Palestrina  ; she  was  an  orphan, 
born  at  Valmontone,  and  was  named  Teresa.  The  two  children 
met,  sat  down  near  each  other,  let  their  flocks  mingle  together, 
played,  laughed  and  conversed  together  ; in  the  evening  they 
separated  the  flocks  and  returned  to  their  respective  farms,  prom- 
ising to  meet  the  next  morning.  The  next  day  they  kept  their 
word,  and  thus  grew  up.  Vampa  was  twelve,  and  Teresa  eleven. 
The  two  children  grew  up  together,  passing  all  their  time  with  each 
other,  and  giving  themselves  up  to  the  wild  ideas  of  their  different 
characters.  Thus,  in  all  their  dreams,  their  wishes,  and  their  con- 
versations, Vampa  saw  himself  the  captain  of  a vessel,  general  ol 
an  army,  or  governor  of  a province.  Teresa  saw  herself  rich, 
superbly  attired,  and  attended  by  a train  of  liveried  domestics. 
Then,  when  they  had  thus  passed  the  day  in  building  castles  in 
the  air,  they  separated  their  flocks,  and  descended  from  the  eleva- 
tion of  their  dreams  to  the  reality  of  their  humble  position. 

“One  day  the  young  shepherd  told  the  count’s  steward  he  had 
seen  a wolf  come  out  of  the  Sabine  mountains,  and  prowl  around 
his  flock.  The  steward  gave  him  a gun  ; this  was  what  Vampa 
longed  for.  This  gun  had  an  excellent  barrel,  made  at  Brechia, 
and  carrying  a ball  with  the  precision  of  an  English  rifle  ; but 
one  day  the  count  broke  the  stock,  and  had  then  cast  the  gun 
aside.  This*  however,  was  nothing  to  a sculptor  like  Vampa  ; he 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


12? 


examined  the  ancient  stock,  calculated  what  change  it  would  re- 
quire to  adapt  the  gun  to  his  shoulder,  and  made  a fresh  stock,  so 
beautifully  carved  that  it  would  have  fetched  fifteen  or  twenty 
piastres,  had  he  chosen  to  sell  it.  From  this  moment  Vampa  de- 
voted all  his  leisure  time  to  perfecting  himself  in  the  use  of  this 
precious  weapon. 

"One  evening  a wolf  emerged  from  a pine-wood  near  which 
they  were  usually  stationed,  but  the  wolf  had  scarcely  advanced 
ten  yards  ere  he  was  dead.  All  these  circumstances  had  gained 
Luigi  considerable  reputation.  The  man  of  superior  abilities  al- 
ways finds  admirers,  go  where  he  will.  He  was  spoken  of  as  the 
most  adroit,  the  strongest,  and  the  most  courageous  contadino  for 
ten  leagues  round  ; and  although  Teresa  was  universally  allowed 
to  be  the  most  beautiful  girl  of  the  Sabines,  no  one  had  ever 
spoken  to  her  of  love,  because  it  was  known  that  she  was  beloved 
by  Vampa.  When  Teresa  was  sixteen  and  Vampa  eighteen,  a 
band  of  brigands  established  in  the  Lepini  mountains  began  to  be 
much  spoken  of.  The  brigands  have  never  been  really  extirpated 
from  the  neighborhood  of  Rome.  Sometimes  a chief  is  wanted, 
but  when  a chief  presents  himself  he  rarely  wants  a band. 

"The  celebrated  Cucumetto,  pursued  in  the  Abruzzo,  driven 
out  of  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  where  he  had  carried  on  a regular 
war,  had  come  to  take  refuge  on  the  banks  of  the  Amasine.  He 
strove  to  reorganize  a band,  and  followed  the  footsteps  of  Deces- 
aris  and  Gasperone,  whom  he  hoped  to  surpass.  Many  young 
men  joined  the  band  of  Cucumetto.  After  some  time  Cucumetto 
became  the  object  of  universal  attention  ; the  most  extraordinary 
traits  of  ferocious  daring  and  brutality  were  related  of  him. 
From  Fondi  to  Pereuse,  every  one  trembled  at  the  name  of  Cucu- 
metto. These  narratives  were  frequently  the  themes  of  conversa- 
tion between  Luigi  and  Teresa.  The  girl  trembled  very  much  at 
all  these  tales ; but  Vampa  reassured  her  with  a smile,  tapping 
the  butt  of  his  good  fowling-piece,  which  threw  its  ball  so  well ; 
and  if  that  did  not  restore  her  courage,  he  pointed  to  a crow, 
perched  on  some  dead  branch,  took  an  aim,  touched  the  trigger, 
and  the  bird  fell  dead  at  the  foot  of  the  tree.  Time  passed  on, 
and  the  two  young  people  had  settled  to  be  married  when  Vampa  ( 
should  be  twenty  and  Teresa  nineteen  years  of  age.  They  were 
both  orphans,  and  had  only  their  employers’  leave  to  ask,  which 
had  been  already  sought  and  obtained.  One  day  when  they 
were  talking  over  their  plans  for  the  future,  they  heard  two  or 
three  reports  of  firearms,  and  then  suddenly  a man  came  out  of 
the  wood,  near  which  the  two  young  persons  used  to  graze  their 
flocks,  and  hurried  towards  them.  When  he  came  within  hear- 
ing, he  exclaimed,  ‘ I am  pursued  ; can  you  conceal  me  ? * They 
knew  full  well  that  this  fugitive  must  be  a bandit : but  there  is  an 
innate  sympathy  between  the  Roman  brigand  and  the  Roman 
peasant,  and  the  latter  is  always  ready  to  aid  the  former.  Vampa, 


128 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


without  saying  a word,  hastened  to  the  stone  that  closed  up  the 
entrance  to  their  grotto,  drew  it  away,  made  a sign  to  the  fugitive 
to  take  refuge  there,  in  a retreat  unknown  to  every  one,  closed  ths 
stone  upon  him,  and  then  went  and  resumed  his  seat  by  Teresa. 
Instantly  afterwards  four  carbineers,  on  horseback,  appeared  on 
the  edge  of  the  wood  ; three  of  them  appeared  to  be  looking  for 
the  fugitive,  whilst  the  fourth  dragged  a brigand  prisoner  by  the 
neck.  The  three  carbineers  scrutinized  on  all  sides,  saw  the 
young  peasants,  and,  galloping  up,  interrogated  them.  They  had 
seen  no  one.  ‘That  is  very  annoying,’  said  the  brigadier  ; ‘for 

the  man  we  are  looking  for  is  the  chief.’ ‘ Cucumetto?’  ” cried 

Luigi  and  Teresa  at  the  same  moment. 

“ ‘Yes,*  replied  the  brigadier  ; ‘ and  as  his  head  is  valued  at  a 
thousand  Roman  crowns,  there  would  have  been  five  hundred  for 
you,  if  you  had  helped  us  to  catch  him.’  The  two  young  persons 
exchanged  looks.  The  brigadier  had  a moment’s  hope.  Five 
hundred  Roman  crowns  are  three  thousand  francs,  and  three 
thousand  francs  are  a fortune  for  two  poor  orphans  who  are  going 
*a  be  married. 

“‘Yes,  it  is  very  annoying,'  said  Vampa;  ‘but  we  have  not 
seen  him.’ 

“Then  the  carbineers  scoured  the  country  in  different  direc- 
tions, but  in  vain  ; then,  after  a time,  they  disappeared.  Vampa 
then  removed  the  stone,  and  Cucumetto  came  out.  He  had  seen, 
through  the  crevices  in  the  granite,  the  two  young  peasants  talk- 
ing with  the  carbineers,  and  guessed  the  subject  of  their  parley. 
He  had  read  in  the  countenances  of  Luigi  and  Teresa  their  stead- 
fast resolution  not  to  surrender  him,  and  he  drew  from  his  pocket 
a purse  full  of  gold,  which  he  offered  to  them.  But  Vampa  raised 
his  head  proudly  ; as  to  Teresa,  her  eyes  sparkled  when  she 
thought  of  all  the  fine  gowns  and  gay  jewelry  she  could  buy 
with  this  purse  of  gold. 

“ Cucumetto  was  a cunning  fiena,  and  had  assumed  the  form 
of  a brigand  instead  of  a serpent,  and  this  look  of  Teresa  revealed 
to  him  that  she  was  a worthy  daughter  of  Eve,  and  he  returned  to 
the  forest,  pausing  several  times  on  his  way,  under  the  pretext  of 
saluting  his  protectors.  Several  days  elapsed,  and  they  neither 
saw  nor  heard  of  Cucumetto.  The  time  of  the  Carnival  was  at 
hand.  The  Count  San-Felice  announced  a grand  masque  ball, 
to  which  all  that  were  distinguished  in  Rome  were  invited. 
Teresa  had  a great  desire  to  see  this  ball.  Luigi  asked  permission 
of  his  protector,  the  steward,  that  she  and  he  might  be  present 
amongst  the  servants  of  the  house.  This  was  granted.  The 
ball  was  given  by  the  count  for  the  particular  pleasure  of  his 
daughter  Carmela,  whom  he  adored.  Carmela  was  precisely  the 
age  and  figure  of  Teresa,  and  Teresa  was  as  handsome  as 
Carmela.  On  the  evening  of  the  ball  Teresa  was  attired  in  her 
best*  her  most  brilliant  hair  ornaments,  and  gayest  &la&5  bead*,— 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


I29 


she  was  in  the  costume  of  the  women  of  Frascati.  Luigi  wore 
the  very  picturesque  garb  of  the  Roman  peasants  at  holiday 
time. 

Carmela  was  attired  like  a woman  of  Sonnino. 

Two  of  her  companions  were  dressed,  the  one  as  a woman  of 
Ivettuno,  and  the  other  as  a woman  of  La  Riccia.  Four  young 
men  of  the  richest  and  noblest  families  of  Rome  accompanied 
them  with  that  Italian  freedom  which  has  not  its  parallel  in  any 
other  country  in  the  world.  They  were  attired  as  peasants.  We 
need  hardly  add  that  these  peasant  costumes,  like  those  of  the 
females,  were  brilliant  with  gold  and  jewels. 

“ Carmela  wished  to  make  a uniform  quadrille,  but  there  was 
one  lady  waiting.  Carmela  looked  all  around  her,  but  not  one  of 
the  guests  had  a costume  similar  to  her  own,  or  those  of  her  com- 
panions. The  Comte  de  San-Felice  pointed  out  to  her,  in  the 
group  of  peasants,  Teresa,  who  was  hanging  on  Luigi’s  arm. 
‘ Will  you  allow  me,  father?’  said  Carmela. ‘Certainly,’  re- 

plied the  comte,  ‘ are  we  not  in  Carnival  time  ? ’ — — Carmela 
turned  towards  the  young  man  who  was  talking  with  her,  and  say- 
ing a few  words  to  him,  pointed  with  her  finger  to  Teresa.  The 
young  man  followed  with  his  eyes  the  lovely  hand  which  made 
this  indication,  bowed  in  obedience,  and  then  went  to  Teresa, 
and  invited  her  to  dance  in  a quadrille  directed  by  the  count’s 
daughter.  Teresa  felt  something  like  a flame  pass  over  her  face  ; 
she  looked  at  Luigi,  who  could  not  refuse  his  assent.  Luigi 
slowly  relinquished  Teresa’s  arm,  which  he  had  held  beneath  his 
cwn,  and  Teresa,  accompanied  by  her  elegant  cavalier,  took  her 
appointed  place  with  much  agitation  in  the  aristocratic  quadrille. 
Luigi  was  jealous ! He  felt  that,  influenced  by  her  ambition  and 
coquettish  disposition,  Teresa  might  escape  him. 

When  the  chill  of  the  night  had  driven  away  the  guests  from  the 
gardens,  and  the  gates  of  the  villa  were  closed  on  them  for  the 
fete  indoors  Luigi  took  Teresa  Quite  away,  and  as  he  left  her  at  her 
home,  he  said, — 

“ ‘Teresa,  what  were  you  thinking  of  as  you  danced  opposite 

the  young  Comtesse  de  San-Felice?’ I thought,’  replied  the 

young  girl,  with  all  the  frankness  of  her  nature,1  that  I would  give 
half  my  life  for  a costume  such  as  she  wore.’ 

“ ‘ Well,  then,  you  shall  have  it  !* 

“ The  girl,  much  astonished,  raised  her  head  to  look  at  him,  but 
his  face  was  so  gloomy  and  terrible  that  her  words  froze  to  her 
lips.  As  Luigi  spoke  thus,  he  left  het.  Teresa  followed  hin?  with 
her  eyes  into  the  darkness  as  long  as  she  could,  and  when  he  had 
quite  disappeared,  she  entered  her  apartment  with  a sigh. 

“ That  night  a great  accident  happened,  no  doubt  from  the  im- 
prudence of  some  servant  who  had  neglected  to  extinguish  the 
lights.  The  Ville  de  San-Felice  took  fire  in  the  rooms  adjoining 
the  very  apartment  of  the  lovely  Carmela.  Awoke  111  the  night  by 
Q 


130 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


fhe  light  of  the  flames,  she  had  sprung  out  of  bed,  wrapped  herself  ha 
a dressing-gown,  and  attempted  to  escape  by  the  door,  but  the 
corridor  by  which  she  hoped  to  fly  was  already  a prey  to  the 
flames.  She  had  then  returned  to  her  room,  calling  for  help  a3 
loudly  as  she  could,  when  suddenly  her  window,  which  was 
twenty  feet  from  the  ground,  was  opened,  a young  peasant  jumped 
into  the  chamber,  seized  her  in  his  arms,  and  with  superhuman 
skill  and  strength  conveyed  her  out  safe  and  uninjured.  Her  pre- 
server was  everywhere  sought  for,  but  did  not  appear  ; no  one  had 
seen  him. 

“ The  next  day,  at  the  usual  hour,  the  two  young  peasants  were 
on  the  borders  of  the  forest.  Luigi  arrived  first.  He  came  to- 
wards Teresa  in  high  spirits,  and  seemed  to  have  completely  for- 
gotten the  events  of  the  previous  evening.  The  girl  was  very  pen- 
sive, but  seeing  Luigi  so  cheerful,  she  on  her  part  assumed  a smil- 
ing air,  which  was  natural  to  her  when  no  excitement  of  passion 
came  to  disturb  her.  Luigi  took  her  arm  beneath  his  own  and  led 
her  to  the  door  of  the  grotto.  Then  he  paused.  The  girl,  per- 
ceiving that  there  was  something  extraordinary,  looked  at  him 
steadfastly.  ‘Teresa/  said  Luigi,  ‘ yesterday  evening  you  told  me 
you  would  give  all  the  world  to  have  a costume  similar  to  that  of 
the  count’s  daughter/ ‘Yes,’  replied  the  girl,  whose  astonish- 

ment increased  at  every  word  uttered  by  Luigi,  * but  of  course 
your  reply  was  only  to  please  me.’ 

“ ‘ I have  promised  no  more  than  I have  given  you,  Teresa/ 
said  Luigi,  proudly.  ‘ Go  into  the  grotto  and  dress  yourself/ 
At  these  words  he  drew  away  the  stone,  and  showed  Teresa  the 
grotto,  lighted  up  by  two  wax  lights,  which  burnt  on  each  side  of 
a splendid  mirror  , on  a rustic  table,  made  by  Luigi,  were  spread 
out  the  pearl  necklace  and  the  diamond  pins,  and  on  a chair  at 
the  side  was  laid  the  rest  of  the  costume. 

“Teresa  uttered  a cry  of  joy,  and,  without  inquiring  whence 
this  attire  came,  or  even  thanking  Luigi,  darted  into  the  grotto 
transformed  into  a dressing-room.  Luigi  pushed  the  stone  behind 
her,  for  he  saw  on  the  crest  of  a small  adjacent  hill  which  pre- 
vented him  from  seeing  Palestrina  from  where  he  was,  a traveler 
on  horseback.  The  traveler,  had  mistaken  his  way  ; he  begged 
Luigi  to  be  his  guide.  In  ten  minutes  Luigi  and  the  traveler 
reached  the  cross-roads  alluded  to  by  the  young  shepherd.  On 
arriving  there,  with  an  air  as  majestic  as  that  of  an  emperor,  he 
stretched  his  hand  toward  that  one  of  the  roads  which  the  traveler 
was  to  follow. — ‘ That  is  your  road,  excellency,  and  now  you  can* 

not  again  mistake/ ‘And  here  is  your  recompense/  said  the 

traveler,  offering  the  young  herdsman  some  pieces  of  small 
money. 

“ * Thank  you/  said  Luigi,  drawing  back  his  hand  ; * I render* 

service,  I do  not  sell  it/ ‘Well,’  replied  the  traveler,  who 

seemed  used  to  this  difference  between  the  servility  of  a man  of  a 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


131 

man  of  the  cities  and  the  pride  of  the  mountaineer,  • if  you  refuse 
pay,  you  will,  perhaps,  accept  of  a present.  Take  these  two 
Venitian  sequins  and  give  them  to  your  bride,  to  make  herself  a 
pair  of  earrings.* 

“ * And  then  do  you  take  this  poniard,’  said  the  young  herds- 
man : * you  will  not  find  one  better  carved  between  Albana  and 
Civita-Castellana.  * 

“4I  accept  it,*  answered  the  traveler.  “ * What  is  your 
name  ? ’ inquired  the  traveler. 

**  * Luigi  Vampa,’  replied  the  shepherd,  with  the  same  air 
as  would  have  replied  Alexander,  King  of  Macedon.  ‘And 
yours  ? ’ 

a‘  ‘ I,*  said  the  traveler,  ‘am called  Sinbad  the  Sailor.* 

“ * Yes,”  replied  the  narrator  ; “ that  was  the  name  which  the 
traveler  gave  to  Vampa  as  his  own.*  ’* 

“ Well,  and  what  may  you  have  to  say  against  this  name?”  in- 
quired Albert ; “it  is  a very  pretty  name,  and  the  adventures  of 
the  gentleman  of  that  name  amused  me  very  much  in  my  youth,  I 
must  confess.” — Franz  said  no  more.  The  name  of  Sinbad  the 
Sailor,  as  may  well  be  supposed,  awakened  in  him  a world  of 
recollections,  as  had  the  name  of  thejCount  of  Monte-Cristo  on  the 
previous  evening. 

“Vampa  put  the  two  sequins  haughtily  into  his  pocket,  and 
slowly  returned  by  the  way  he  had  gone.  As  he  came  within  two 
or  three  hundred  paces  of  the  grotto,  he  thought  he  heard  a 
scream.  He  cast  his  eyes  around  him,  and  saw  a man  carrying  off 
Teresa,  as  did  the  Centaur  Nessus  Dejanira.  This  man,  who  was 
hastening  toward  the  wood,  was  already  three-quarrers  of  the 
way  on  the  road  from  the  grotto  to  the  forest.  Vampa  measured 
the  distance  : the  man  was  at  least  two  hundred  paces  in  advance 
of  him,  and  there  was  not  a chance  of  overtaking  him.  The 
young  shepherd  stopped,  as  if  his  feet  had  been  rooted  to  the 
ground  ; then  he  put  the  butt  of  his  carbine  to  his  shoulder,  took 
aim  <it  the  ravisher,  followed  him  for  a second  in  his  track,  and 
then  fired.  The  ravisher  stopped  suddenly,  his  knees  bent  under 
him,  and  he  fell  with  Teresa  in  his  arms.  The  girl  rose  instantly, 
but  the  man  lay  on  the  earth  struggling  in  the  agonies  of  death.  The 
ball,  had  pierced  his  heart.  Vampa  gazed  on  him  for  a moment 
without  betraying  the  slightest  emotion  ; whilst,  on  the  contrary, 
Tesesa,  shuddering  in  every  limb,  dared  not  approach  the  slain 
ruffian  but  by  degrees,  and  threw  a hesitating  glance  at  the  dead 
bodv  over  the  shoulder  of  her  lover.  Suddenly  Vampa  turned 
towards  his  mistress  : — * Ah  ! ah  P said  he — * good,  good ! you  are 
attired  ; it  is  now  my  turn  to  dress  myself.’  ” 

“Teresa  was  clothed  from  head  to  foot  in  the  garb  of  San- 
Felice’s  daughter.  Vampa  took  Cucumetto’s  body  in  his  arms 
and  conveyed  it  to  the  grotto,  whilst  in  her  turn  Teresa  remained 
outside  £ second  traveler  had  passed,  he  would  have  seen  a 


132 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


strange  thing  ; a shepherdess  watching  her  flock,  clad  in  a cache- 
mire  gown,  with  ear-rings  and  necklace  of  pearls,  diamond  pins, 
and  buttons  of  sapphires,  emeralds,  and  rubies.  At  the  end  of  a 
quarter  hour  Vampa  quitted  the  grotto  ; his  costume  was  no  less 
elegant  than  Teresa’s.  He  had  assumed  the  entire  costume  of  Cu- 
cumetto.  The  young  man  saw  the  effect  produced  on  his  be- 
trothed, and  a smile  of  pride  over  his  lips. — ‘ Now,'  he  said  to 
Teresa,  ‘ are  you  ready  to  share  my  fortune,  whatever  it  may  be  ?’ 

. ‘Oh,  yes!’  exclaimed  the  girl  enthusiastically. ‘And 

follow  me  wherever  I go?’ ‘To  the  world’s  end.’ ‘Then 

take  my  arm,  and  let  us  on,  we  have  no  time  to  loose.’ — The  girl 
did  so  without  questioning  her  lover  as  to  where  he  wras  conduct- 
ing her,  for  he  appeared  to  her  at  this  moment,  as  handsome, 
croud,  and  powerful  as  a god.  They  went  towards  the  forest,  and 
soon  entered  it.  We  need  scarcely  say  that  all  the  paths  of  the 
mountain  were  known  to  Vampa  ; he  therefore  went  forward  with- 
out a moment’s  hesitation,  although  there  was  no  beaten  track  ; 
but  he  knew  his  path  by  looking  at  the  trees  and  bushes  ; and  thus 
they  kept  on  advancing  for  nearly  an  hour  and  a half.  At  the 
end  of  this  time  they  had  reached  the  thickest  of  the  forest.  Sud- 
denly, about  ten  paces  from  them,  a man  advanced  from  behind  a 
tree  and  aimed  at  Vampa. — ‘ Not  another  step,’  he  said,  ‘ or  you 

are  a dead  man.’ ‘ What  then  ! ’ said  Vampa,  raising  his  hand 

with  a gesture  of  disdain,  whilst  Teresa,  no  longer  able  to  restrain 
her  alarm,  clung  closely  to  him  ; * do  wolves  rend  each  other  ?’ — — 

* Who  are  you  ? inquired  the  sentinel. ‘ I am  Luigi  Vampa, 

shepherd  of  the  farm  of  San- Felice.  I would  speak  with  your 

companions  in  the  recess  at  Rocca  Bianca. ‘ Follow  me,  then/ 

said  the  sentinel  ; ‘ or,  as  you  know  your  way,  go  first.’ — Vampa 
smiled  disdainfully  at  this  precaution  of  the  bandit,  went  before 
Teresa,  and  continued  to  advance  with  the  same  firm  and  easy 
step  as  before.  At  the  end  of  ten  minutes  the  bandit  made  them 
a sign  to  stop.  The  two  young  persons  obeyed.  Then  the  bandit 
thrice  imitated  the  caw  of  a crow  ; a croak  answered  this  signal. 
— ‘ Good  !’  said  the  sentry  : ‘you  may  now  advance.’ — Luigi  and 
Teresa  again  set  forward  ; as  they  advanced,  Teresa  clung 
tremblingly  to  her  lover,  as  she  saw  through  the  trees  arms  appear 
and  the  barrels  of  carbines  shine.  The  retreat  of  Rocca  Bianca  was 
at  the  top  of  a small  mountain,  which  no  doubt  in  former  days  had 
been  a volcano.  Teresa  and  Luigi  reached  the  summit,  and  all  at 
once  found  themselves  in  the  presence  of  twenty  bandits.  ‘ Here 
is  a young  man  who  seeks  and  wishes  to  speak  to  you/  said  the 

sentinel. ‘ What  has  he  to  say  ? * inquired  the  young  man  who 

was  in  command  in  the  chief’s  absence. * I wish  to  say  that  I 

am  tired  of  a shepherd’s  life,’  was  Vampa’s  reply. 1 come  to 

ask  to  be  your  captain,'  said  the  young  man.  The  bandits 
shouted  with  laughter.  ‘ And  what  have  you  done  to  aspire  to 
Shis  honor?  ’ demanded  the  lieutenant,— ‘ I have  killed  your  chief. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR/STO. 


133 


Cucumetto,  whose  dress  I now  wear ; and  I set  fire  to  the  Villa 
San-Felice  to  procure  a wedding-dress  for  my  betrothed.’  An 
hour  afterwards  Luigi  Vampa  was  chosen  captain,  vice  Cucumetto 
deceased.” 

“Well,  my  dear  Albert,”  said  Franz,  turning  towards  his 
friend,  “ what  think  you  of  citizen  Luigi  Vampa  ? ” 

I say  he  is  a myth,”  replied  Albert,  “ and  never  had  an  ex- 
istence.” 

“And  you  say  that  Vampa  exercises  his  profession  at  this 
moment  in  the  environs  of  Rome  ? Then  the  police  have  vainly 
tried  to  lay  hands  on  him?”  “Why,  you  see,  he  has  a good 
understanding  with  the  shepherds  on  the  plains,  the  fishermen  of 
the  Tiber,  and  the  smugglers  of  the  coast.  They  seek  for  him  in 
the  mountains,  and  he  is  on  the  water  ; they  follow  him  on  the 
waters,  and  he  is  on  the  open  sea;  then  they  pursue  him,  and  he 
has  suddenly  taken  refuge  on  the  isle  Monte-Cristo  ; and  when 
they  hunt  for  him  there,  he  reappears  suddenly  at  Albano, 
Tivoli,  or  La  Riccia.” 

“ And  how  does  he  behave  towards  travelers?” 

“ Alas  ! his  plan  is  very  simple.  It  depends  on  the  distance  he 
may  be  from  the  city,  whether  he  gives  eight  hours,  twelve  hours, 
or  a day  wherein  to  pay  their  ransom  ; and  when  that  time  has 
elapsed  he  allows  another  hour’s  grace.  At  the  sixtieth  minute  of 
this  hour,  if  the  money  is  not  forthcoming,  he  blows  out  the 
prisoner’s  brains  with  a pistol-shot,  or  plants  his  dagger  in  his 
heart,  and  that  settles  the  account.” 

The  two  young  men  went  down  the  staircase,  and  got  into  the 
carriage. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  COLOSSEUM. 

Franz  had  so  managed  his  route,  that  during  the  ride  to  the 
Colosseum  they  passed  not  a single  ancient  ruin,  so  that  no  gradual 
preparation  was  made  on  the  mind  for  the  colossal  proportions  of 
the  gigantic  building  they  came  to  admire.  This  itinerary 
possessed  the  advantage  of  leaving  Franz  at  full  liberty  to  in- 
dulge his  deep  reverie  upon  the  subject  of  the  story  recounted  by 
Pastrini,  in  which  his  mysterious  host  of  the  isle  of  Monte-Cristo 
was  so  strangely  mixed  up. 

But  however  the  mind  of  the  young  man  might  be  absorbed  in 
these  reflections,  they  were  at  once  dispersed  at  the  sight  of  the 
dark  frowning  ruins  of  the  stupendous  Colosseum,  through  the 
various  openings  of  which  the  pale  moonlight  played  and  flickered 
like  the  unearthly  gleam  from  tiie  eyes  of  the  wandering  dead. 


*34 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRIST® 


The  carriage  stopped  near  the  Meta  Sudans,  the  doffi  opened, 
and  the  young  men,  eagerly  alighting,  found  themselves  opposite 
a cicerone,  who  appeared  to  have  sprung  up  from  the  ground,  so 
unexpected  was  his  appearance. 

As  for  Albert  and  Franz,  they  essayed  not  to  escape  from  their 
Ciceronian  tyrants  ; and,  indeed,  it  would  have  been  so  much  the 
more  difficult  to  break  their  bondage,  as  the  guides  alone  are  per- 
mitted to  visit  these  monuments  with  torches  in  their  hands. 
Thus,  then,  the  young  men  made  no  attempt  at  resistance,  but 
blindly  and  confidingly  surrendered  themselves  into  the  care  and 
custody  of  their  conductors.  Scarcely,  had  the  reflective  Franz 
walked  a hundred  steps  beneath  the  interior  porticoes  of  the  ruin, 
than,  abandoning  Albert  to  the  guides,  ascended  a half-dilapidated 
staircase,  and,  leaving  them  to  follow  their  monotonous  round, 
seated  himself  at  the  foot  of  a column,  and  immediately  opposite 
a large  chasm,  which  permitted  him  to  enjoy  a full  and  undis- 
turbed view  of  the  gigantic  dimensions  of  this  majestic  ruin., 

Franz  had  remained  for  nearly  a quarter  of  an  hour  perfectly 
hidden  by  the  shadow  of  the  vast  column,  when  all  at  once  his  ear 
caught  a sound  resembling  a stone  rolling  down  the  staircase  op- 
posite the  one  by  which  he  had  himself  ascended.  Some  one,  was 
approaching  the  spot  where  he  sat.  Conjecture  soon  became  cer- 
tainty, for  a man  was  distinctly  visible  to  Franz,  gradually  emerg- 
ing from  the  staircase  opposite,  upon  which  the  moon  was  at  that 
moment  pouring  a full  tide  of  silvery  brightness. 

The  stranger  thus  presenting  himself  was  probably  a person  who, 
like  Franz,  preferred  the  enjoyment  of  solitude  and  his  own 
thoughts  to  the  frivolous  gabble  of  the  guides.  And  his  appear- 
ance had  nothing  extraordinary  in  it ; but  the  hesitation  with  which 
he  proceeded  onwards,  stopping  and  listening  with  anxious  atten- 
tion at  every  step  he  took,  convinced  Franz  he  expected  the  ar- 
rival of  some  person. 

From  the  imperfect  means  Franz  had  of  judging,  he  could  only 
come  to  one  conclusion — that  the  individual  whom  he  was  thus 
watching  certainly  belonged  to  no  inferior  station  of  life.  Some 
few  minutes  had  elapsed,  and  the  stranger  began  to  show  manifest 
signs  of  impatience,  when  a slight  noise  was  heard  outside  the 
aperture  in  the  roof,  and  almost  immediately  a dark  shadow 
seemed  to  obstruct  the  flood  of  light  that  had  entered  it,  and  the 
figure  of  a man  was  clearly  seen  gazing  with  eager  scrutiny  on  the 
immense  space  beneath  him  ; then,  as  his  eye  caught  sight  of  the 
individual  in  the  mantle,  he  grasped  a floating  mass  of  thickly- 
matted  boughs,  and  glided  down  by  their  help  to  within  three 
or  four  feet  of  the  ground,  and  then  leaped  lightly  on  his  feet. 
The  man  who  had  performed  this  daring  act  with  so  much  indif- 
ference wore  the  costume  of  Transtevere.  “ I beg  your  excel- 
lency’s pardon  for  keeping  you  waiting,”  said  the  man,  in  the  Ro- 
man dialect,  14  but  I don’t  think  I’m  many  minutes  after  my 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  I $5 

time  ; ten  o’clock  has  just  struck  by  the  clock  of  Saint-Jean-de- 
Latran.” 

“ Say  not  a word  about  being  late,”  replied  the  stranger,  in  pur- 
est Tuscan  ; “ ' tis  I who  am  too  soon.  But  even  if  you  had  caused 
me  to  wait  a little  while,  I should  have  felt  quite  sure  that  the  de- 
lay was  not  occasioned  by  any  fault  of  yours.” 

“Your  excellency  is  perfectly  right  in  so  thinking,”  said  the 
man ; “ I came  here  direct  from  the  Castle  San  Angelo,  and  I had 
an  immense  deal  of  trouble  before  I could  get  to  speak  to  Beppo. 
He  is  employed  in  the  prison,  and  I give  him  so  much  a year  to 
let  me  know  what  is  going  on  within  his  holiness’s  Castle.” 

“ Indeed  ! You  are  a provident  person,  I see.” 

“Why,  you  see,  no  one  knows  what  may  happen.  Perhaps 
some  of  these  days  I may  be  entrapped,  like  poor  Peppino,  and 
may  be  very  glad  to  have  some  little  nibbling  mouse  to  gnaw  the 
meshes  of  my  net,  and  so  help  me  out  of  prison.” 

“ Briefly,  what  did  you  glean  ? ” 

“That  two  executions  of  considerable  interest  will  take  place 
the  day  after  to-morrow  at  two  o’clock,  as  is  customary  at  Rome 
at  the  commencement  of  all  great  festivals.  One  of  the  culprits 
will  be  mazzolato ; he  is  an  atrocious  villain,  who  murdered  the 
priest  who  brought  him  up,  and  deserves  not  the  smallest  pity. 
The  other  sufferer  is  to  be  beheaded  ; and  he,  is  poor  Peppino.” 

“ The  fact  is,  that  you  have  inspired  not  only  the  pontifical  gov- 
ernment, but  also  the  neighboring  states,  with  such  extreme  fear, 

that  they  are  glad  of  an  opportunity  of  making  an  example.” 

“ But  Peppino  did  not  even  belong  to  my  band  ; he  was  merely  a 
poor  shepherd,  whose  only  crime  consisted  in  furnishing  us  with 
provisions. 

“ One  thing  I have  resolved  on,  and  that  is,  to  stop  at  nothing  to 
restore  a poor  devil  to  liberty,  who  has  got  into  this  scrape  solely 
from  having  served  me.  I should  hate  and  despise  myself  as  a 
coward,  did  I desert  the  brave  fellow  in  his  present  extremity.” 

“ And  what  do  you  mean  to  do?” “ To  surround  the  scaf- 

fold with  twenty  of  my  best  men,  who,  at  a signal  from  me,  will 
rush  forward  directly  Peppino  is  brought  for  execution,  and,  by  the 
assistance  of  their  stilettos,  drive  back  the  guard,  and  carry  off 
the  prisoner.” 

“That  seems  to  me  as  hazardous  as  uncertain,  and  convinces 
me  my  scheme  is  far  better  than  yours.” 

“ And  what  is  your  excellency's  project  ? ” 

“ Take  what  precautions  you  please,  if  It  is  any  satisfaction  to 
you  to  do  so  ; but  rely  upon  my  obtaining  the  reprieve  I seek.” 

‘ And  how  shall  I know  whether  your  excellency  has  succeeded 
or  not? ” 

“ Oh ! that  is  very  easily  arranged ; I have  engaged  the  three 
lower  windows  at  the  Rospoli  Caffe  ; should  I have  obtained  the 
requisite  pardon  for  Peppino,  the  two  windows  will  be  hung  with 


i$6  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

yellow  damasks,  and  the  centre  with  white,  having  a large  cross  in 
red  marked  on  it.” 

44  And  whom  will  you  employ  to  carry  the  reprieve  to  the  officer 
directing  the  execution?  ” — 44  Send  one  of  your  men  disguised  as 
a penitent  friar,  and  I will  give  it  to  him  : his  dress  will  procure 
him  the  means  of  approaching  the  scaffold  itself,  and  will  deliver 
the  official  order  to  the  officer,  who,  in  his  turn,  will  hand  it  to  the 
executioner  ; in  the  meantime,  it  will  be  as  well  to  acquaint  Pep- 
pino  with  what  we  have  determined  on,  if  it  be  only  to  prevent 
his  dying  of  fear  or  losing  his  senses,  because  in  either  case  a very 
useless  expense  will  have  been  incurred.” 

44  Only  fulfil  your  promise  of  rescuing  Peppino,  and  hencefor- 
ward you  shall  receive  not  only  devotedness,  but  the  most  abso- 
lute obedience  from  myself  and  those  under  me  that  one  human 
being  can  render  to  another.” 

41  Hush  ! ” interrupted  the  stranger  ; 41  I hear  a noise.” 

44  ’Tis  some  travelers,  who  are  visiting  the  Colosseum  by  torch- 
light.” 

44  ’Twere  better  we  should  not  be  seen  together  ; those  guides 
are  nothing  but  spies,  and  might  possibly  recognize  you  ; and, 
however  1 may  be  honored  by  your  friendship,  my  worthy  friend, 
if  once  the  extent  of  our  intimacy  were  known,  I am  sadly  afraid 
both  my  reputation  and  credit  would  suffer  thereby.” 

44  All  is  then  understood  between  us.  Adieu,  your  excellency, 
depend  upon  me  as  firmly  as  I do  upon  you.” 

Saying  these  words,  the  Transtevere  disappeared  down  the  stair- 
case, while  his  companion,  muffling  his  features  more  closely  than 
before  in  the  folds  of  his  mantle,  passed  almost  close  to  Franz, 
and  descended  to  the  arena  by  an  outward  flight  of  steps.  The 
next  minute  Franz  heard  himself  called  by  Albert,  who  made  the 
lofty  building  re-echo  with  the  sound  of  his  friend’s  name.  Franz, 
however,  did  not  obey  the  summons  till  he  had  satisfied  himself 
the  two  individuals,  whose  conversation  he  had  thus  surprised, 
were  at  a sufficient  distance  to  prevent  his  encountering  them  in 
his  descent,  not  wishing  that  they  should  suspect  having  had  a 
witness  to  their  discourse,  who,  if  unable  to  recognize  their  faces, 
had-  at  least  heard  every  word  that  passed.  In  ten  minutes  from 
the  parting  of  the  strangers,  F ranz  was  on  the  road  to  the  Hotel 
d’Espagne,  listening  with  mortified  indifference  to  the  learned  dis- 
sertation delivered  by  Albert.  Franz  longed  to  be  alone,  and  able, 
undisturbedly,  to  ponder  over  all  that  had  occurred.  One  of  the 
two  men,  whose  mysterious  rendezvous  in  the  Colosseum  he  had 
so  unintentionally  witnessed,  was  an  entire  stranger  to  him,  but 
not  so  the  other;  and  though  Franz  had  been  unable  to  distin- 
guish his  features,  from  his  being  either  wrapped  in  his  mantle  or 
obscured  by  the  shadow,  the  tones  of  his  voice  had  made  too  pow- 
erful an  impression  on  him  the  first  time  he  heard  them  for  him 
ever  again  to  forget  them,  hear  them  when  or  where  he  might  1$ 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


*3? 


was  more  especially  when  speaking  in  a manner  half-jesting,  half- 
bitter, that  Franz’s  ear  recalled  mo'st  vividly  the  deep,  sonorous, 
yet  well-pitched  voice,  that  had  spoken  to  him  in  the  grotto  of 
Monte-Cristo,  and  which  he  heard  for  the  second  time  amid  the 
darkness  and  ruined  grandeur  of  the  Colosseum  ! And  the  more 
he  thought,  the  more  entire  was  his  conviction,  that  the  individual 
in  the  mantle  was  no  other  than  his  former  host  and  entertainer. 
u Smbad  the  Sailor.” 


CHAPTER  XXL 

THE  EXECUTION. 

The  Carnival  was  to  commence  on  the  morrow  : therefore  Al- 
bert had  not  an  instant  to  lose  in  setting  forth  the  programme  of 
his  hopes,  expectations,  and  claims  to  notice.  With  this  design 
he  had  engaged  a box  in  the  most  conspicuous  part  of  the  Argen- 
tine theatre,  and  exerted  himself  to  set  off  his  personal  attractions 
by  the  most  elaborate  toilet.  The  box  taken  by  Albert  was  in  the 
first  circle,  who  knew  but  that,  thus  advantageously  placed,  he 
could  not  fail  to  attract  the  notice  of  some  fair  Roman  ; and  an 
introduction  might  ensue  that  would  procure  him  the  offer  of  a 
seat  in  a carriage,  or  a place  in  a princely  balcony,  from  which  he 
might  behold  the  gaieties  of  the  Carnival  ? 

The  truth  was,  that  the  anticipated  pleasures  of  the  Carnival, 
with  the  “ holy  week”  that  was  to  succeed  it,  so  filled  every  fair 
breast,  as  to  prevent  the  least  attention  being  bestowed  even  on 
the  business  of  the  stage.  Toward  the  close  of  the  first  act,  the 
door  of  a box  which  had  been  hitherto  vacant  was  opened  ; a 
lady  entered  to  whom  Franz  had  been  introduced  in  Paris,  where, 
indeed,  he  had  imagined  she  still  was.  The  quick  eye  of  Albert 
caught  the  involuntary  start  with  which  his  friend  beheld  the  new 
arrival,  and  turning  to  him,  he  said  hastily — “ Do  you  know  the 

female  who  has  just  entered  the  box?” “Countess  Guic- 

cioli ” 

“ Ah  ! I know  her  by  name,”  exclaimed  Albert  ; M she  is  said 
to  possess  as  much  wit  and  cleverness  as  beauty  ! I was  to  have 
been  presented  to  her  when  I met  her  at  Mdme  Villefort’s  ball.” 

“Shall  I assist  you  in  repairing  your  negligence  ?”  asked 
Franz. 

“ My  dear  fellow,  are  you  really  on  such  good  terms  with  her 

as  to  venture  to  take  me  to  her  box  ? ” “ Why,  I have  only 

had  the  honor  of  being  in  her  society  and  conversing  with  her 
three  or  four  times  in  my  life  ; but  you  know  that  even  such  an 
acquaintance  as  that  might  warrant  my  doing  what  you  ask.”  At 
this  instant,  the  countess  perceived  Franz,  and  graciously  waved 


138  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

her  hand  to  him,  to  which  he  replied  by  a respectful  inclination 
of  the  head. 

The  curtain  at  length  fell  on  the  performances,  to  the  infinite 
satisfaction  of  Viscount  Morcerf,  who  seized  his  hat,  rapidly  passed 
his  fingers  through  his  hair,  arranged  his  cravat  and  wristbands, 
and  signified  to  Franz  that  he  was  waiting  for  him  to  lead  the 

way. 

Franz  presented  Albert  as  one  of  the  most  distinguished  young 
|men  of  the  day,  both  as  regarded  his  position  in  society  and  ex- 
traordinary talents  : nor  did  he  say  more  than  the  truth,  for  in 
Paris  and  the  circle  in  which  the  viscount  moved,  he  was  looked 
upon  and  cited  as  a model  of  perfection. 

The  countess,  in  reply,  bowed  gracefully  to  Albert,  and  ex- 
tended her  hand  with  cordial  kindness  to  Franz;  then,  inviting 
Albert  to  take  the  vacant  seat  beside  her,  she  recommended 
Franz  to  take  the  next  best,  if  he  wished  to  view  the  ballet,  and 
pointed  to  the  one  behind  her  own  chair.  Albert  was  soon  deeply 
engrossed  in  discoursing  upon  Paris  and  Paris  matters,  speaking 
to  the  countess  of  the  various  persons  they  both  knew  there. 
Franz  perceived  how  completely  he  was  in  his  element ; and,  un- 
willing to  interfere  with  the  pleasure  he  so  evidently  felt,  took  up 
Albert’s  glasses,  and  began  in  his  turn  to  survey  the  audience. 
Sitting  alone,  in  the  front  of  a box  immediately  opposite,  but  sit- 
uated on  the  third  row,  was  a female  of  exquisite  beauty,  dressed 
in  a Greek  costume,  which  it  was  evident,  from  the  ease  and 
grace  with  which  she  wore  it,  was  her  national  attire.  Behind  her, 
but  in  deep  shadow,  was  the  outline  of  a male  figure  ; but  the  feat- 
ures of  this  latter  personage  it  was  not  possible  to  distinguish.  F ranz 
could  not  forbear  breaking  in  upon  the  apparently  interesting  con- 
versation passing  between  the  countess  and  Albert,  to  inquire  of 
the  former  if  she  knew  who  wras  the  fair  Albanaise  opposite,  since 
beauty  such  as  hers  was  well  worthy  of  being  remarked  by  either 
sex.  “All  I can  tell  you  about  her,”  replied  the  countess,  “ is, 
that  she  has  been  at  Rome  since  the  beginning  of  the  season  ; for 
I saw  her  where  she  now  sits  the  very  first  night  of  the  theatre’s 
opening,  and  since  then  she  has  never  missed  a performance. 
Sometimes  accompanied  by  the  individual  who  is  with  her,  and  at 
Others  merely  attended  by  a black  servant.” 

“And  what  do  you  think  of  her  personal  appearance  ? ” 

**  Oh,  I consider  her  perfectly  lovely— she  is  just  my  idea  of  what 
Medora  must  have  been.” 

Franz  and  the  countess  exchanged  a smile,  and  then  the  latter 
^resumed  her  conversation  with  Albert,  while  Franz  returned  to  his 
previous  survey  of  the  house  and  company.  The  curtain  rose  on 
the  ballet.  However  much  it  might  have  claimed  his  attention, 
Franz  was  too  deeply  occupied  with  the  beautiful  Greek  to  take 
any  note  of  it,  while  she  seemed  to  experience  an  almost  child- 
like delight  in  watching  it ; her  eager*  animated  looks,  contrasting 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . ijq 


strongly  with  the  utter  indifference  of  her  companion,  who,  during 
the  whole  time  the  piece  lasted,  never  even  moved. 

The  overture  to  the  second  act  began  ; and  at  the  first  sound  of 
the  violin,  Franz  observed  the  sleeper  slowly  arise  and  approach 
the  Greek  girl,  who  turned  round  to  say  a few  words  to  him,  and 
then,  leaning  forward  again  on  her  box,  she  became  as  absorbed  as 
before  in  what  was  going  on.  The  countenance  of  the  person  who 
had  addressed  her  remained  so  completely  in  the  shade,  that, 
though  Franz  tried  his  utmost,  he  could  not  distinguish  a single 
feature.  The  curtain  drew  up,  and  the  attention  of  Franz  was 
attracted  by  the  actors  ; and  his  eyes  quitted  their  gaze  at  the  box 
containing  the  Greek  girl  and  her  strange  companion  to  watch  the 
business  of  the  stage. 

Most  of  my  readers  are  aware  that  the  second  act  of  “ Pari- 
sina  ” opens  with  the  celebrated  and  effective  duet  in  which 
Parisina,  while  sleeping,  betrays  to  Azzo  the  secret  of  her  love  for 
Ugo.  Excited  beyond  his  usual  calm  demeanor,  Franz  rose  with 
the  audience,  and  was  about  to  join  the  loud  enthusiastic  applause 
that  followed  ; but  suddenly  his  purpose  was  arrested,  his  hands 
fell  by  his  sides,  and  the  half-uttered  “ bravos  ” expired  on  his 
lips.  The  occupant  of  the  box  in  which  the  Greek  girl  sat  ap< 
peared  to  share  the  universal  admiration  that  prevailed,  for  he 
left  his  seat  to  stand  up  in  the  front,  so  that,  his  countenance  be- 
ing fully  revealed,  Franz  had  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  him  as 
the  mysterious  inhabitant  of  Monte-Cristo,  and  the  very  same  in- 
dividual he  had  encountered  the  preceding  evening  in  the  ruins  of 
the  Colosseum,  and  whose  voice  and  figure  had  seemed  so  familiar 
to  him.  All  doubt  of  his  identity  was  now  at  an  end  : his  sin- 
gular host  evidently  resided  at  Rome.  The  surprise  and  agitation 
occasioned  by  this  full  confirmation  of  Franz’s  former  suspicion 
had  no  doubt  imparted  a corresponding  expression  to  his  features  ; 
for  the  countess,  after  gazing  with  a puzzled  look  on  his  speaking 
countenance,  burst  into  a fit  of  laughter,  and  begged  to  know 
what  happened.  “Madame,”  returned  Franz,  totally  unheeding 
her  raillery,  “ I asked  you  a short  time  since  if  you  knew  any 
particulars  respecting  the  Albanian  lady  opposite  ; I must  now  be- 
seech you  to  inform  me  who  and  what  is  her  husband  ? ” 

“All  I can  say,”  continued  the  countess,  taking  up  the  glasses, 
and  directing  it  to  the  box  in  question,  “ is,  that  the  gentleman, 
whose  story  I am  unable  to  furnish,  seems  to  me  as  though  he 
had  just  been  dug  up  ; he  looks  more  like  a corpse  permitted  by 
some  friendly  gravedigger  to  quit  his  tomb  for  a while,  and  re- 
visit this  earth  of  ours,  than  anything  human.  How  ghastly  pale 
he  is ! ” 

“ Oh,  he  is  always  as  colorless  as  you  now  see  him,"  said 
Franz. 

“Then  y know  him?  M almost  screamed  the  countess.  ••  Ohl 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


I4C 

pray  do,  for  heaven’s  sake,  tell  us  all  about is  he  a vampire, 

or  a resuscitated  corpse,  or  what  ? ” 

“ I fancy  I have  seen  him  before  ; and  I even  think  he  rec- 
ognizes  me.” 

“ He  is  no  other  than  Lord  Ruthven  himself  in  a living  form.” 
This  fresh  allusion  to  Byron  drew  a smile  to  Franz’s  countenance  ; 
although  he  could  but  allow  that  if  anything  was  likely  to  induce 
belief  in  the  existence  of  vampires,  it  would  be  the  presence  of 
such  a man  as  the  mysterious  personage  before  him. 

“ I’ll  tell  you,”  answered  the  countess.  “ Byron  had  the  most 
perfect  belief  in  the  existence  of  vampires,  and  even  assured  me 
lie  had  seen  some.  The  description  he  gave  me  perfectly  corres- 
ponds with  the  features  and  character  of  the  man  before  us.  Oh ! 
it  is  the  exact  personification  of  what  I have  been  led  to  expect. 
The  coal  black  hair,  large  bright  glittering  eyes,  in  which  a wild, 
unearthly  fire  seems  burning, — the  same  ghastly  paleness.  Then 
observe,  too,  that  the  very  female  he  has  with  him  is  altogether  un- 
like all  others  of  her  sex.  She  is  a foreigner — a stranger.  Nobody 
knows  who  she  is,  or  where  she  comes  from.  No  doubt  she  be- 
longs to  the  same  horrible  race  he  does,  and  is,  like  himself,  a 
dealer  in  magical  arts.  I entreat  of  you  not  to  go  near  him — at 
least  to-night  ; and  if  to-morrow  your  curiosity  still  continues  as 
great,  pursue  your  researches  if  you  will  ; but  to-night  you  neither 
can  nor  shall.  For  that  purpose  I mean  to  keep  you  all  to  my- 
self.” 

On  his  return  from  the  countess’s  to  his  own  hotel,  Franz  found 
Albert  glad  to  see  him. 

My  friend,”  cried  he,  " a bright  idea  has  flashed  across  my 
brain.  You  agree,  do  you  not,  that  obtaining  a carriage  is  out  of 
the  question?  ” 

•*  True  ; we  have  offered  any  sums,  but  have  failed.” 

•'Well,  now,  what  do  you  say  to  a cart?  With  a cart  and  a 
couple  of  oxen  our  business  can  be  managed.  The  cart  must  be 
tastefully  ornamented  ; and  if  you  and  I dress  ourselves  as  Nea- 
politan reapers,  we  may  get  up  a striking  tableau,  after  the  manner 
of  that  splendid  picture  by  Leopold  Robert.  It  would  add  greatly 
to  the  effect  if  the  countess  would  join  us  in  the  costume  of  a peas- 
ant. Our  group  would  then  be  quite  complete,  more  especially  as 
the  countess  is  quite  beautiful.” 

Well,”  said  Franz,  “ this  time,  Albert,  I am  bound  to  give  you 
credit  for  having  hit  upon  a most  capital  idea.” 

"And  quite  a national  one,  too,”  replied  Albert  with  gratified 
pride.  " A mere  masque  borrowed  from  our  own  festivities.  Ha  ! 
ha  ! you  Romans,  thought  to  make  us,  unhappy  strangers,  trot  at 
the  leels  of  your  processions,  like  so  many  lazzaroni,  because  no 
carriages  or  horses  are  to  be  had  in  your  beggarly  city.  But  you 
don’t  know  us  ; when  we  can’t  have  one  thing  we  invent  another, 45 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  !<*t 

«<  And  have  you  communicated  your  triumphant  idea  to  any  pef* 
son  ? ” 

“ Only  to  our  host.  Gone  in  search  of  our  equipage  : I expect 
him  every  minute.”  At  this  instant  the  door  opened,  and  Pastrini 
appeared, 

“ Now,  then,”  asked  Albert,  eagerly  ; 44  have  you  found  the  de- 
sired cart  and  oxen  ? ” 

41  Better  than  that ! ” replied  Pastrini,  with  the  air  of  a man  per- 
fectly well  satisfied  with  himself. 

44  Take  care,  my  worthy  host,”  said  Albert,  44 better  is  a sure 
enemy  to  well." 

44  Your  excellencies  are  aware,”  responded  the  landlord,  swell- 
ing with  importance,  44  that  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  is  living  on 
the  same  floor  with  yourselves  ! 

44  I should  think  we  did  know  it,”  exclaimed  Albert,  44  since  it 
is  owing  to  that  circumstance  that  we  are  packed  into  these  small 
rooms,  like  two  poor  students  in  the  back  streets  of  Paris.” 

44  Well,  then,  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo,  hearing  of  the  di- 
lemma in  which  you  are  placed,  has  sent  to  offer  you  seats  in  his 
carriage  and  two  places  at  his  windows  in  the  Palace  Rospoli.” 
The  friends  looked  at  each  other  with  unutterable  surprise. 

At  this  instant  some  one  knocked  at  the  door.  44  Come  in  ! 
said  Franz.  A servant,  wearing  a livery  of  considerable  style  and 
richness,  appeared  at  the  threshold,  and  placing  two  cards  in  the 
landlord’s  hands,  who  forthwith  presented  them  to  the  two  young 
men,  he  said,  44  Please  to  deliver  these,  from  Count  of  Monte- 
Cristo,  to  Viscount  Albert  Morcerf  and  M.  Franz  Epinay.  The 
Count  of  Monte-Cristo,”  continued  the  servant,  44  begs  these  gen- 
tleman’s permission  to  wait  upon  them  as  their  neighbor,  and  he 
will  be  honored  by  an  intimation  ^f  what  time  they  will  please  to 
receive  him.” 

44  Faith,  Franz,”  whispered  Aroert,  44  there  is  not  much  to  find 

fault  with  here.” 44  Tell  the  count,”  replied  Franz,  44  that  we 

will  do  ourselves  the  pleasure  of  calling  on  him.”  The  servant 
bowed  and  retired. 

44  That  is  what  I call  an  elegant  mode  of  attack,”  said  Albert. 
44  Still,  I must  own  I am  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  give  up  the  cart 
and  the  group  of  reapers — it  would  have  produced  such  an  effect ! 
And  were  it  not  for  the  windows  at  the  Palace  Rospoli,  by  way  of 
recompense  for  the  loss  of  our  beautiful  scheme,  I don’t  know  but 
what  I should  have  held  on  by  my  original  plan.  What  say  you, 
Franz  ? ’* 

44  Oh,  I agree  with  you  ; the  windows  in  the  Palace  Rospoli  alone 
decided  me.”  The  truth  was,  that  the  mention  of  two  places  in 
the  Palace  Rospoli  had  recalled  to  Franz’s  mind  the  conversation 
he  had  overheard  in  the  Colosseum.  The  next  day  must  clear  up 
every  doubt,  and  unless  his  near  neighbor  and  would-be  friend, 
ths  Count  of  Monte-Cristo,  possessed  the  ring  of  Gyges,  and  by 


142 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


its  power  were  able  to  render  himself  invisible,  it  was  very  certain 
he  could  not  escape  this  time.  Eight  o’clock  found  Franz  up  and 
dressed,  while  Albert,  who  had  not  the  same  motives  for  early  ris- 
ing, was  still  profoundly  asleep.  The  first  act  of  Franz  was  to 
summon  his  landlord,  who  presented  himself  with  his  accustomed 
obsequiousness. 

“Pray,  Pastrini,”  asked  Franz,  “is  not  some  execution  ap- 
pointed to  take  place  to-day  ? ” “ Yes,  your  excellency  ; but  if 

your  reason  for  inquiry  is  that  you  may  procure  a window  to  view 
it  from,  you  are  much  too  late.” 

“ Oh,  no  ! ” answered  Franz,  “ I had  no  such  intention  ; “ but 
in  case  I feel  disposed,  give  me  some  particulars  of  to-day’s  execu- 
tions.” 

“ That  happens  just  lucky,  your  excellence  ! Only  a few  min- 
utes ago  they  brought  me  the  tavolettas , wooden  tablets  hung  up 
at  the  corners  the  evening  before  an  execution,  on  which  Is  pasted 
up  a paper  containing  the  names  of  the  condemned  persons,  their 
crimes,  and  mode  of  punishment.  The  reason  for  so  publicly  an- 
nouncing all  this  is,  that  all  good  and  faithful  Catholics  may  offer 
up  their  prayers  for  the  unfortunate  culprits,  and,  above  all,  be- 
seech of  Heaven  to  grant  them  a sincere  repentance.” 

“ Oblige  me  by  a sight  of  one  of  these  tavolettas." 

“ Nothing  can  be  easier  than  to  comply  with  your  excellency’s 
wish,”  said  the  landlord,  opening  the  door  of  the  chamber  ; “I 
have  caused  one  to  be  placed  on  the  landing,  close  by  your  apart- 
ment.” Then,  taking  the  tablet  from  the  wall,  he  handed  it  to 
Franz,  who  read  as  follows  : — 

“ 1 The  public  is  informed  that  on  Wednesday,  February  23rd, 
being  the  first  day  of  the  Carnival,  two  executions  will  take  place 
in  the  Place  del  Popolo,  by  order  of  the  Tribunal  de  la  Rota,  of 
two  individuals,  named  Andrea  Rondola,  and  Peppin®,  otherwise 
called  Rocca  Priori  ; the  former  found  guilty  of  the  murder  of  a 
venerable  and  exemplary  priest,  named  Don  Cesar  Torlini,  canon 
of  the  church  of  Saint-Jean-de-Latran  ; and  the  latter  convicted 
of  being  an  accomplice  of  the  atrocious  and  sanguinary  bandit, 
Luigi  Vampa,  and  his  troupe.  The  first-named  malefactor  will  be 
inazzolato,  the  second  culprit,  decapitato . The  prayers  of  all  good 
Christians  are  entreated  for  these  unfortunate  men,  that  it  may 
please  God  to  awaken  them  to  a sense  of  their  guilt,  and  to  grant 
them  a hearty  and  sincere  repentance  for  their  crimes.*  ” 

This  was  precisely  what  Franz  had  heard  the  evening  before  in 
the  ruins  of  the  Colosseum.  In  all  probability,  therefore,  the 
Transtevere  was  no  other  than  the  bandit  Luigi  Vampa  himself, 
and  the  man  shrouded  in  the  mantle  the  same  he  had  known  as 
“ Sinbad  the  Sailor,”  but  who,  no  doubt,  was  still  pursuing  his 
philanthropic  expedition  in  Rome  as  he  had  already  done  at  Porto- 
Vecchio  and  Tunis.  Time  was  getting  on,  however,  and  Albert 
entered  in  perfect  costume  for  the  day.  The  anticipated  delights 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


543 


of  the  Carnival  had  so  run  in  his  head  as  to  make  him  leave  his 
pillow  long  before  his  usual  hour.  “ Now,  my  excellent  Pastrini,” 
said  Franz,  addressing  his  landlord,  “ since  we  are  both  ready,  do 
you  think  we  may  proceed  at  once  to  visit  the  count  of  Monte- 

Cristo  ? ” “ Most  assuredly,”  replied  he. 

The  landlord  preceded  the  friends  across  the  landing,  which  was 
all  that  separated  them  from  the  apartments  of  the  count,  rang  at 
the  bell,  and  the  door  being  opened,  a servant  bowed  respectfully, 
and  invited  them  to  enter.  They  passed  through  two  rooms,  fur- 
nished with  a style  and  luxury  they  had  not  calculated  on  finding 
under  the  roof,  and  were  shown  into  an  elegantly  fitted-up  room. 
••  If  your  excellencies  will  please  to  be  seated,”  said  the  man,  “ I 
will  let  M.  le  Comte  know  you  are  here.” 

And  with  these  words  he  disappeared  behind  one  of  th z portieres. 
As  the  door  opened,  the  sound  of  a gnzla  reached  the  ears  of  the 
young  men,  but  was  almost  immediately  lost,  for  the  rapid  closing 
of  the  door  merely  allowed  one  rich  swell  of  harmony  to  enter  the 
saloon.  Franz  and  Albert  looked  inquiringly  at  each  other,  then 
at  the  gorgeous  fittings-up  of  the  apartment.  All  seemed  even 
more  splendid  at  a second  view  than  it  had  done  at  their  first  rapid 
survey. 

•'  Well,”  said  Franz  to  his  friend,  " what  think  you  of  all  this?” 
••  Why,  upon  my  soul,  my  dear  fellow,  it  strikes  me  our  elegant 
and  attentive  neighbor  must  either  be  some  successful  stock-jobber 
who  has  speculated  in  the  fall  of  the  Spanish  funds  or  some  prince 
traveling  incog." 

“ Hush  ! hush  ! ” replied  Franz.  Almost  immediately  the  tap- 
estry was  drawn  aside,  and  the  owner  of  all  these  riches  stood  be- 
fore the  two  young  men.  Albert  instantly  rose  to  meet  him,  but 
Franz  remained,  in  a manner,  spell-bound  on  his  chair,  for  in  the 
person  of  him  who  had  just  entered  he  recognized  not  only  the 
mysterious  visitant  to  the  Colosseum,  and  the  occupant  of  the  Ar- 
gentine box,  but  also  his  singular  host  at  Monte-Cristo  Island. 

“ Gentlemen,”  said- the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  as  he  entered,  “ I 
pray  you  excuse  me  for  suffering  my  visit  to  be  anticipated ; but  I 
feared  to  disturb  you  by  presenting  myself  earlier  at  your  apart- 
ments ; besides,  you  sent  me  word  you  would  come  to  me,  and  I 
have  held  myself  at  your  disposal.” 

“ Franz  and  I have  to  thank  you  a thousand  times,  M.  le 
Comte,”  returned  Albert;  41  you  extricated  us  from  a great  di- 
lemma, and  we  were  on  the  point  of  inventing  some  very  fantas' 
tic  vehicle  when  your  friendly  invitation  reached  us.”- “ In- 

deed! ” returned  the  count,  motioning  the  two  young  men  to  sit 
down.  “ It  was  the  fault  of  that  blockhead  Pastrini,  that  I did 
not  sooner  assist  you  in  your  distress.  He  did  not  mention  a syl- 
lable^  of  your  embarrassment  to  me,  when  he  knows  that,  alone 
and  isolated  as  I am,  I seek  every  opportunity  of  making  the 
acquaintance  of  my  neighbors.  As  soon  as  I learned  I could  in 


«44 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRIS10. 


any  way  assist  you,  I most  eagerly  seized  the  opportunity  of  offer- 
ing my  services.**  The  two  young  men  bowed.  Franz  had,  as 
yet,  found  nothing  to  say  ; he  had  adopted  no  determination  ; and  as 
nothing  in  the  count’s  manner  manifested  the  wish  that  he  should 
recognize  him,  he  did  not  know  whether  to  make  any  allusion  to 
the  past,  or  wait  until  he  had  more  proof ; besides,  although  sure 
it  was  he  who  had  been  in  the  box  the  previous  evening,  he  could 
not  be  equally  positive  that  he  was  the  man  he  had  seen  at  the 
Colosseum.  He  resolved,  therefore,  to  let  things  take  their  course 
without  making  any  direct  overture  to  the  count.  Besides,  he  had 
this  advantage  over  him,  he  was  master  of  his  secret,  whilst  he 
had  no  hold  on  Franz,  who  had  nothing  to  conceal.  However, 
he  resolved  to  lead  the  conversation  to  a subject  which  might  pos- 
sibly clear  up  his  doubts. 

“Count,”  said  he,  “ you  have  offered  us  places  in  your  carriage, 
and  at  your  windows  of  the  Rospoli  Palace.  Can  you  tell  us 

where  we  can  obtain  a sight  of  the  Place  del  Popolo?” 

“Ah!**  said  the  count,  negligently,  looking  attentively  at  Mor~ 
cerf,  “ is  there  not  .^mething  like  an  execution  upon  the  Place  del 
Popolo  ? * * 

“Yes,**  returned  Franz,  finding  that  the  count  was  coming  to 
the  point  he  wished.— “ Stay,  I think  I told  my  steward  yester- 
day to  attend  to  this  ; perhaps  I can  render  you  this  slight  service 
also.*’  He  extended  his  hand,  and  rang  the  bell  thrice.  “ Did 
you  ever  occupy  yourself,”  said  he  to  Franz,  “ with  the  employ- 
ment of  time  and  the  means  of  simplifying  the  summoning  your 
servants?  I have:  when  I ring  once,  it  is  for  my  valet ; twice, 
for  my  steward  ; thrice,  for  my  steward  : thus  I do  not  waste  a 
minute  or  a word.  Here  he  is ! ’*  A man  of  about  five-and-forty 
to  fifty  entered,  exactly  resembling  the  smuggler  who  had  intro- 
duced Franz  into  the  cavern  ; but  he  did  not  appear  to  recognize 
him.  It  was  evident  he  had  his  orders.  “ M.  Bertuccio,”  said 
the  count,  “ have  you  procured  me  windows  looking  on  the  Place 
del  Popolo,  as  I ordered  you  yesterday?  ** 

“Yes,  excellency,”  returned  the  steward  ; “ it  was  let  to  Prince 
Lobanieff ; but  I was  obliged  to  pay  a hundred- ” 

“ That  will  do — that  will  do,  M.  Bertuccio;  spare  these  gentle- 
men all  such  domestic  arrangements.  You  have  the  windows, 
that  is  sufficient.  Give  orders  to  the  coachman  ; and  be  in  readi- 
ness on  the  stairs  to  conduct  us  to  it.”  The  steward  bowed,  and 
was  about  to  quit  the  room.  “Ah!  **  continued  the  count,  “ be 
good  enough  to  ask  Pastrini  if  he  has  received  the  tavoletta , and 
if  he  can  send  us  an  account  of  the  execution.” 

“There  is  no  need  to  do  that,”  said  Franz,  taking  out  his  tab- 
lets ; “ for  I saw  the  account,  and  copied  it  down.” 

“Very  well,  you  can  retire,  Bertuccio  ; let  us  know  when  break- 
fast is  ready.  These  gentlemen,”  added  he,  turning  to  the  two 
friends.  «•  wilh  I trust,  do  me  the  honor  to  breakfast  ? ** 


TflE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR/STO. 


*45 


«•  But/’  said  Albert,  “ we  snail  abuse  your  kindness." 

««  Not  at  all ; on  the  contrary,  you  will  give  me  great  pleasure. 
You  will,  one  or  other  of  you,  perhaps  both, ^return  it  to  me  at 
Paris.  Maitre  Bertuccio,  lay  covers  for  three.”  He  took  Franz’s 
tablets  out  of  his  hand.  “ 4 We  announce,’  he  read,  in  the  same 
tone  with  which  he  would  have  read  a newspaper,  4 that  to-day, 
the  23rd  of  February,  will  be  executed  Andrea  Rondolo,  etc., 
convicted  of  complicity  with  the  detestable  bandit  Luigi  Vampa, 
and  the  men  of  his  troop/  Hum  ! / The  first  will  be  broken  on 
the  wheel,  the  second  beheaded.’  Yes,”  continued  the  count,  “ it 
was  first  arranged  in  this  way  ; but  I think  since  yesterday  some 
change  has  taken  place  in  the  order  of  the  ceremony.” 

“Really  ! ” said  Franz. 

“ Yes,  1 passed  the  evening  at  Cardinal  Rospigliosi’s,  and  there 
mention  was  made  of  something  like  a pardon  lor  one  of  the  two 
men.” 

“ For  Andrea  Rondolo?  ” asked  Franz. 

“ No,”  replied  the  count,  carelessly  ; “for  the  other  (he  glanced 
at  the  tablets  as  if  to  recall  the  name),  for  Peppino,  alias  Rocca 
Priori.  You  are  thus  deprived  of  seeing  a man  guillotined  ; but 
the  rnazzolato  still  remains,  which  is  a very  curious  punishment 
when  seen  for  the  first  time,  and  even  the  second,  whilst  the  other, 
as  you  must  know,  is  very  simple.  The  mandaia  never  fails, 
never  trembles,  never  strikes  ineffectually.  Ah!”  added  the 
count,  in  a contemptuous  tone,  “ do  not  tell  me  of  European 
punishments,  they  are  in  the  infancy,  or  rather  the  old  age,  of 
cruelty.” 

“Really,”  replied  Franz,  “one  would  think  that  you  had 
studied  the  different  tortures  of  all  the  nations  of  the  world.” 

“There  are,  at  least,  few  that  I have  not  seen,”  said  the  count, 
coldly. 

“And  you  took  pleasure  in  beholding  these  dreadful  spectaeies?  ” 

“My  first  sentiment  was  horror,  the  second  indifference,  the 
third  curiosity.” “ Curiosity  ! that  is  a terrible  word.” 

“ Why  so  ? in  my  opinion,  death  may  be  a torture,  but  it  is  not 
an  expiation.” 

“ I do  not  quite  understand  you,”  replied  Franz  ; “ pray  explain 
your  meaning,  for  you  excite  my  curiosity  to  the  highest  pitch.” 

“ Listen,”  said  the  count,  and  deep  hatred  mounted  to  his  face, 
as  the  blood  would  to  the  face  of  any  other.  **  If  a man  had  by 
unheard-of  and  excruciating  tortures  destroyed  your  father, 
mother,  or  mistress  ; in  a word,  one  of  those  beings  who,  when 
they  are  torn  from  you,  leave  desolation,  a wound  that  never  closes 
in  your  breast,  do  you  think  the  reparation  that  society  gives  you 
sufficient  by  causing  the  knife  of  the  guillotine  to  pass  between  the 
base  of  the  occiput  and  the  trapezal  muscles  of  the  murderer,  be- 
cause he  who  has  caused  us  years  of  moral  sufferings  undergoes  * 
few  moments  of  phvsical  pain  ? M 
10 


146 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


“ Yes,  I know,”  said  Franz,  "that  human  justice  is  insufficient 
to  console  us  ; she  can  give  blood  in  return  for  blood,  that  is  all ; 
but  you  must  demand  from  her  only  what  it  is  in  her  power  to 
grant.” 

" I will  put  another  case  to  you,”  continued  the  count  ; "that 
where  society,  attacked  by  the  death  of  a person,  avenges  death 
by  death.  But  are  there  not  a thousand  tortures  by  which  a m cCb 
may  be  made  to  suffer  without  society  taking  the  least  cognizance 
of  them,  or  offering  him  even  the  insufficient  means  of  vengeance, 
of  which  we  have  just  spoken  ? Are  there  not  crimes  for  which 
the  impalement,  the  stake  and  the  brand,  are  inadequate  tortures, 
and  which  are  unpunished  by  society  ? Answer  me,  do  not  these 
crimes  exist?  ” 

" Yes,’'  answered  Franz  ; “ and  it  is  to  punish  them  that  duell* 
ing  is  tolerated.” 

" Ah,  duelling  ! M cried  the  count ; " a pleasant  manner,  upon 
my  soul,  of  arriving  at  your  end  when  that  end  is  vengeance  ! A 
man  has  carried  off  your  mistress,  seduced  your  wife,  dishonored 
your  daughter  ; rendered  the  whole  life  of  one  who  had  the 
right  to  expect  from  Heaven  that  portion  of  happiness  God  has 
promised  to  every  one,  an  existence  of  misery  and  infamy  ; and 
you  think  you  are  avenged  because  you  send  a bullet  through  the 
head,  or  pass  a sword  through  the  breast,  of  that  man  who  has 
planted  madness  in  your  brain,  and  despair  in  your  heart.  With- 
out recollecting  that  it  is  often  he  who  comes  off  victorious  from 
the  strife,  absolved  of  all  crime  in  the  eyes  of  the  world ! No, 
no,”  continued  the  count ; " had  I to  avenge  myself,  it  is  not  thus 
I would  take  revenge.” 

" Then  you  disapprove  of  duelling  ! you  would  not  fight  a 
duel?”  asked  Albert  in  his  turn,  astonished  at  this  strange 
theory. 

"Oh,  yes,”  replied  the  count ; "understand  me,  I would  fighf 
a duel  for  a trifle,  for  an  insult,  for  a blow  ; but  the  less  so  that/ 
thanks  to  my  skill  in  all  bodily  exercises,  and  the  indifference  to 
danger  I have  gradually  acquired,  I should  be  almost  certain  to 
kill  my  man.  Oh  ! I would  fight  for  such  a cause  ; but  in  return 
for  a slow,  profound,  eternal  torture,  I would  give  back  the  same, 
were  it  possible  : an  eye  for  an  eye,  a tooth  for  a tooth.” 

" But,”  said  Franz  to  the  count,  " with  this  theory,  which  renders 
you  at  once  judge  and  executioner  of  your  own  cause,  it  would  be 
difficult  to  adopt  a course  that  would  for  ever  prevent  your  falling 
under  the  power  of  the  law.  Hatred  is  blind  ; rage  carries  you 
away  ; and  he  who  pours  out  vengeance,  runs  the  risk  of  tasting 
a bitter  draught.” 

" Yes,  if  he  be  poor  and  inexperienced  ; not  if  he  be  rich  and 
skilful ; beside  the  worst  that  could  happen  to  him  would  be  the 
punishment  of  which  we  have  already  spoken,  and  which  the 
philanthropic  French  Revolution  has  substituted  for  being  torn  to 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


147 


pieces  by  horses  or  broken  on  the  wheel.  What  matters  this 
punishment,  as  long  as  he  is  avenged  ? On  my  word,  I almost 
regret  that  in  all  probability  this  miserable  Peppino  will  not  be 
decapitato , as  you  might  have  had  ai>  opportunity  then  of  seeing 
how  short  a time  the  punishment  lasts,  and  whether  it  is  worth 
even  mentioning  ; but,  really,  this  is  a most  singular  conversation 
for  the  Carnival  gentlemen;  how  did  it  arise?  Ah!  I. recollect, 
you  asked  for  a place  at  my  window  ; you  shall  have  it ; but  let 
us  first  sit  down  to  table,  for  here  comes  the  servant  to  inform  us 
breakfast  is  ready.”  As  he  spoke,  a servant  opened  one  of  the 
four  doors  of  the  saloon,  saying — 44  Al  suo  commodo /"  The  two 
young  men  rose  and  entered  the  breakfast-room. 

During  the  meal,  which  was  excellent,  and  admirably  served, 
Franz  looked  repeatedly  at  Albert,  who  ate  like  a man  who  for 
the  last  four  or  five  months  had  been  condemned  to  partake  of 
Italian  cookery — that  is,  the  worst  in  the  world.  As  for  the  count, 
he  just  touched  the  dishes  ; he  seemed  as  if  he  fulfilled  the  duties 
of  an  entertainer  by  sitting  down  with  his  guests,  and  awaited 
their  departure  to  be  served  with  some  strange  or  more  delicate 
food.  This  brought  back  to  Franz,  in  spite  of  himself,  the  recol- 
lection of  the  terror  with  which  the  count  had  inspired  the 
Countess  and  her  firm  conviction  that  the  man  in  the  opposite  box 
was  a vampire.  At  the  end  of  the  breakfast  Franz  took  out  his 

watch.  11  Well,”  said  the  count,  44  what  are  you  doing?”- 

44  You  must  excuse  us,”  returned  Franz,  44  but  we  have  still  much 
to  do.  We  have  no  disguises,  and  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to 
procure  them.” 

44  Do  not  concern  yourself  about  that ; we  have,  I think,  a 
private  room  in  the  Place  del  Popolo  ; I will  have  whatever  cos- 
tumes you  choose  brought  to  us,  and  you  can  dress  there.” 

44  After  the  execution?”  cried  Franz. 44  The  scaffold  forms 

part  of  the  fete.” 

44 1 have  reflected  on  the  matter,”  said  Franz,  44 1 thank  you  for 
your  courtesy,  but  I shall  content  myself  with  accepting  a place 
in  your  carriage  and  at  your  window  at  the  Rospoli  Palace,  and  I 
leave  you  at  liberty  to  dispose  of  my  place  at  the  Place  del 
Popolo.” 

44  But  I warn  you,  you  will  lose  a very  curious  sight,”  returned 
the  count. 

44  You  will  relate  it  to  me,”  replied  Franz,  44  and  the  recital 
from  your  lips  will  make  as  great  an  impression  on  me  as  if  I had 
witnessed  it.  I have  more  than  once  intended  witnessing  an  exe- 
cution, but  I have  never  been  able  to  make  up  my  mind  : and 
you,  Albert  ? ” 

44 1,”  replied  the  viscount — 44 1 saw  Castaing  executed,  but  I 
think  I was  rather  intoxicated  that  day,  for  I had  quitted  college 
the  same  morning,  and  we  had  passed  the  previous  night  at  a 
tavern.” 


148 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


Besides  it  is  no  reason  because  you  have  not  seen  an  execu« 
tion  at  Paris,  that  you  should  not  see  one  anywhere  else  ; when 
you  travel,  it  is  to  see  everything.  If  you  went  to  Spain,  would 
you  not  see  the  bull-fights  ? Well,  suppose  it  is  a bull-fight  you 
are  going  to  see  ? Recollect  the  ancient  Romans  of  the  Circus, 
and  the  sports  where  they  killed  three  hundred  lions  and  a hun- 
dred men.  Think  of  the  eighty  thousand  applauding  spectators, 
the  sage  matrons  who  took  their  daughters,  and  the  charming 
Vestals  who  made  with  the  thumb  of  their  white  hands  the  fatal 
sign  that  said,  4 Come,  despatch  this  man,  already  nearly  dead.’  ” 
“ Shall  you  go,  then,  Albert?  ” asked  Franz. 

44  Yes  ; like  you,  I hesitated,  but  the  count’s  eloquence  decides 

me  ! ” “ Let  us  go,  then,”  said  Franz,  44  since  you  wish  it ; 

but  on  our  way  to  the  Piazza  del  Popolo,  I wish  to  pass  through 
the  Corso.  Is  this  possible  ? ” 

44  On  foot,  yes  ! in  a carriage,  no ! ” 

44 1 will  go  on  foot,  then  ! ” 

44  Is  it  important  that  you  should  pass  through  this  street?  " 

44  Yes,  there  is  something  I wish  to  see  ! ” 

44  Well,  we  will  pass  by  the  Corso.  We  will  send  the  carriage 
to  wait  for  us  on  the  Piazza  del  Popolo,  by  the  Strada  del  Babu- 
ino,  for  I shall  be  glad  to  pass,  myself,  through  the  Corso,  to  see 
if  some  orders  I have  given  have  been  executed.” 

44  Excellency,”  said  a servant,  opening  the  door,  44  a man  in  the 
dress  of  a penitent  wishes  to  speak  to  you.” 

44  Ah  ! yes  ! ” returned  the  count,  44  I know  who  he  is,  gentle- 
men ; will  you  return  to  the  salon  ? you  will  find  on  the  centre 
table  some  excellent  cigars.  I will  be  with  you  directly.”  The 
young  men  rose  and  returned  into  the  salon,  whilst  the  count, 
again  apologizing,  left  by  another  door. 

44  Well,”  asked  Franz,  44  what  think  you  of  the  count  of  Monte- 
Cristo  ? ” 44  What  do  I think?”  said  Albert,  evidently  sur- 

prised at  such  a question  ; 44 1 think  that  he  is  a delightful  fellow, 
who  does  the  honors  of  his  table  admirably  ; who  has  traveled 
much,  read  much,  is,  like  Brutus,  of  the  Stoic  school,  and  more- 
over,” added  he,  sending  a volume  of  smoke  up  towards  the  ceil- 
ing, 44  that  he  has  excellent  cigars.”  Such  was  Albert’s  opinion 
of  the  count,  and  as  Franz  well  knew  that.  44  But,”  said  he, 
44  did  you  remark  one  very  singular  thing.  How  attentively  he 
looked  at  you.” 

44Ah!”  replied  he,  sighing,  44  that  is  not  very  surprising;  1 
I have  been  more  than  a year  absent  from  Paris,  and  my  clothes 
are  of  a most  antiquated  cut  ; the  count  takes  me  for  a rustic. 
The  first  opportunity  you  have,  undeceive'  him,  I beg,  and  tell 
him  I am  nothing  of  the  kind.” 

Franz  smiled  : an  instant  after,  the  count  entered. 

44 1 am  now  quite  at  your  service,  gentlemen,”  said  he.  44  The 
carriage  is  going  one  way  to  the  Place  del  Popolo,  and  we  will  go 


THE  COUNT  OF  biONTE  CRISTO.  149 

ianother  ; and  if  you  please,  by  the  Corso.  Take  some  more  of 
these  cigars,  M.  de  Morcerf.” 

“With  all  my  heart,”  returned  Albert;  M these  Italian  cigars 
are  horrible.  When  you  come  to  Paris,  I will  return  all  this.” 

“ I will  not  refuse  ; I intend  going  there  soon,  and  since  you  al- 
low me,  I will  pay  you  a visit.  Come  ! we  have  not  any  time  to 
lose,  it  is  half-past  twelve — let  us  set  off!  ” All  three  descended  : 
the  coachman  received  his  master’s  orders,  and  drove  down  the 
Via  del  Babuino.  Whilst  the  three  gentlemen  walked  towards 
the  Place  d’Espagne  and  the  Via  Frattina,  which  led  directly  be- 
tween the  Fiano  and  Rospoli  Palaces,  all  Franz’s  attention  was 
directed  towards  the  windows  of  that  last  palace,  for  he  had  not 
forgotten  the  signal  agreed  upon  between  the  man  in  the  mantle 
and  the  Transtevere  peasant.  “Which  are  your  windows?” 
asked  he  of  the  count,  with  as  much  indifference  as  he  could  as- 
sume. “ The  three  last,”  returned  he,  with  a negligence  evidently 
unaffected,  for  he  could  not  imagine  with  what  intention  the  ques- 
tion was  put.  Franz  glanced  rapidly  towards  the  three  windows. 
The  side  windows  were  hung  with  yellow  damask,  and  the  centre 
•one  with  white  damask  and  a red  cross.  The  man  in  the  mantle 
had  kept  his  promise  to  the  Transtevere,  and  there  could  now  be 
no  doubt  that  he  was  the  count.  The  three  windows  were  still  un- 
tenanted.  Preparations  were  making  on  every  side  ; chairs  v/ere 
placed,  scaffolds  were  raised,  and  windows  were  hung  with  flags. 
The  masks  could  not  appear  ; the  carriages  could  not  move  about  ; 
but  the  masks  were  visible  behind  the  windows,  the  carriages, 
and  the  doors. 

Franz,  Albert  and  the  count  continued  to  descend  the  street : as 
they  approached  the  Place  del  Popolo,  the  crowd  became  more 
dense,  and  above  the  heads  of  the  multitude  two  objects  were  vis- 
ible ; the  obelisk,  surmounted  by  a cross,  which  marks  the  centre 
of  the  place,  and  before  the  obelish,  at  the  point  where  the  three 
streets  meet,  the  two  upright  of  the  scaffold,  between  which  glit- 
tered the  curved  knife  of  the  manduia.  At  the  corner  of  the  street 
they  met  the  count’s  steward,  who  was  awaiting  his  master.  The 
window,  let  at  an  exorbitant  price,  which  the  count  had  doubtless 
washed  to  conceal  from  his  guests,  was  on  the  second  floor  of  the 
great  palace,  situated  between  the  Rue  del  Babuino  and  the  Monte 
Pincio.  It  consisted,  as  we  have  said,  of  a small  dressing-room, 
opening  into  a bedroom,  and  when  the  door  of  communication 
was  shut,  the  inmates  were  quite  alone.  On  two  chairs  were  laid 
as  many  elegant  clown  costumes  in  blue  and  white  satin.  “As 
you  left  the  choice  of  your  costumes  to  me,”  said  the  count  to  the 
two  friends,  “ I have  had  these  brought,  as  they  will  be  the  most 
worn  this  year  ; and  they  are  most  suitable,  on  account  of  the 
confetti  (sugarplums),  as  they  do  not  show  the  flour.” 

Franz  heat'd  the  words  but  imperfectly,  and  he  perhaps  did  not 
fully  apprecWle  this  new  attention  to  their  wishes  ; for  he  was 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


ISO 

wholly  absorbed  by  the  spectacle  that  the  Piazza  presented,  and 
by  the  terrible  instrument  that  was  in  the  centre.  It  was  the  first 
time  Franz  had  ever  seen  a guillotine, — because  the  Roman  man- 
data  is  formed  on  almost  the  same  model  as  the  French  instru- 
ment : the  knife,  which  is  shaped  like  a crescent,  that  cuts  with 
the  convex  side,  falls  from  a less  height,  and  that  is  all  the  differ- 
ence. Two  men,  seated  on  the  movable  plank  on  which  the  cul- 
prit is  laid,  were  eating  their  breakfasts,  whilst  waiting  for  the 
criminal.  Their  repast  consisted,  apparently,  of  bread  and  sau- 
sages. One  of  them  lifted  the  plank,  took  thence  a flask  of  wine, 
drank  some,  and  then  passed  it  to  his  companion.  These  two 
men  were  the  executioner’s  assistants.  At  this  sight  Franz  felt  the 
perspiration  start  forth  upon  his  brow.  The  prisoners,  transported 
the  previous  evening  from  the  Carcere  Nuovo  to  the  little  church 
of  Santa  Maria  del  Popolo,  had  passed  the  night,  each  accompa- 
nied by  two  priests,  in  a chapel  closed  by  a grating,  before  which 
were  two  sentinels,  relieved  at  intervals.  A double  line  of  car- 
bineers, placed  on  each  side  of  the  door  of  the  church,  reached  to 
the  scaffold,  and  formed  a circle  round  it,  leaving  a path  about 
ten  feet  wide,  and  around  the  guillotine  a space  of  nearly  a hun- 
dred feet.  What  the  count  said  was  true — the  most  curious  spec- 
tacle in  life  is  that  of  death.  And  yet,  instead  of  the  silence  and  the 
solemnity  demanded  by  the  occasion,  a noise  of  laughter  and  jest 
arose  from  the  crowd  : it  was  evident  that  this  execution  was,  in 
the  eyes  of  the  people,  only  the  commencement  of  the  Carnival. 
Suddenly  the  tumult  ceased,  as  if  by  magic  ; the  doors  of  the 
church  opened.  A brotherhood  of  penitents,  clothed  from  head 
to  foot  in  robes  of  grey  sackcloth,  with  holes  for  the  eyes  alone, 
and  holding  in  their  hand  a lighted  taper,  appeared  first  ; the 
chief  marched  at  the  head.  Behind  the  penitents  came  a man  of 
vast  stature  and  proportions.  He  was  naked,  with  the  exception 
of  cloth  drawers,  at  the  left  side  of  which  hung  a large  knife  in  a 
sheath,  and  he  bore  on  his  right  shoulder  a heavy  mace.  This 
man  was  the  executioner.  He  had,  moreover,  sandals  bound  on 
his  feet  by  cords.  Behind  the  executioner  came,  in  the  order  in 
which  they  were  to  die,  first  Peppino  and  then  Andrea.  Each 
was  accompanied  by  two  priests.  Neither  had  their  eyes  ban- 
daged. Peppino  walked  with  a firm  step,  doubtless  aware  of  what 
awaited  him.  Andrea  was  supported  by  two  priests.  Each  of 
them  kissed,  from  time  to  time,  the  crucifix  a confessor  held  out  to 
them.  At  this  sight  alone  Franz  felt  his  legs  tremble  under  him. 
He  looked  at  Albert — he  was  white  as  his  shirt,  and  mechanically 
cast  away  his  cigar,  although  he  had  not  half  smoked  it.  The 
count  alone  seemed  unmoved — nay,  more,  a slight  color  seemed 
striving  to  rise  in  his  pale  cheeks.  His  nostril  dilated  like  a wild 
beast  that  scents  its  prey,  and  his  lips,  half  opened,  disclosed  his 
white  teeth,  small  and  sharp  like  a jackal’s.  And  yet  his  features 
wore  an  expression  of  smiling  tenderness,  such  as  Franz  had 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO 


151 

never  before  witnessed  in  them  ; his  black  eyes  especially  were 
full  of  kindness  and  pity.  However,  the  two  culprits  advanced, 
and  as  they  approached  their  faces  became  visible.  Peppino  was 
a handsome  young  man  of  four  or  five  and  twenty,  bronzed  by  the 
sun  ; he  carried  his  head  erect,  and  seemed  to  look  on  which  side 
his  liberator  would  appear.  Andrea  was  short  and  fat ; his  visage 
marked  with  brutal  cruelty,  did  not  indicate  age  ; he  might  be 
thirty.  In  prison  he  had  suffered  his  beard  to  grow  ; his  head  fell 
on  his  shoulder,  his  legs  bent  beneath  him,  and  he  seemed  to  obey 
a mechanical  movement  of  which  he  was  unconscious. 

“ I thought,”  said  Franz,  to  the  count,  41  that  you  told  me  there 
would  be  but  one  execution  ! ” 

“ 1 told  you  true,”  replied  he,  coldly. 

•4  However,  here  are  two  culprits.” 

44  Yes  ; but  only  one  of  these  two  is  about  to  die  ; the  other  has 
long  years  to  live  ! ” 

“ If  the  pardon  is  to  come  there  is  no  time  to  lose.” 

“And,  see,  here  it  is,”  said  the  count.  At  the  moment  when 
Peppino  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  mandaia,  a penitent,  who 
seemed  to  arrive  late,  forced  his  way  through  the  soldiers,  and, 
advancing  to  the  chief  of  the  brotherhood,  gave  him  a folded 
paper.  The  piercing  eye  of  Peppino  had  noticed  all.  The  chief 
took  the  paper,  unfolded  it,  and,  raising  his  hand,  44  Heaven  be 
praised ! and  his  Holiness  also  ! ” said  he,  in  a loud  voice  ; 14  here 
is  a pardon  for  Peppino,  called  Rocca  Priori.”  And  he  passed 
the  paper  to  the  officer  commanding  the  carbineers,  who  read  and 
returned  it  to  him. 

“ For  Peppino  ! ” cried  Andrea,  who  seemed  aroused  from  the 
torpor  in  which  he  had  been  plunged.  “ Why  for  him  and  not 
for  me  ? We  ought  to  die  together.  I was  promised  he  should 
die  with  me.  You  have  no  right  to  put  me  to  death  alone.  I will 
not  die  alone — I will  not!”  And  he  broke  from  the  priests, 
struggling  and  raving  like  a wild  beast,  and  striving  desperately 
to  break  the  cords  that  bound  his  hands.  The  executioner  made 
a sign,  and  his  assistant  leaped  from  the  scaffold  and  seized  him. 

“ What  is  passing  ? ” asked  Franz  of  the  count : for,  as  all  this 
occurred  in  the  Roman  dialect,  he  had  not  perfectly  comprehended 
it. 

44  Do  you  not  see,”  returned  the  count,  44  that  this  human  creat- 
ure who  is  about  to  die  is  furious  that  his  fellow-sufferer  does  not 
perish  with  him  ? Here  is  a man  who  had  resigned  himself  to  his 
fate,  who  was  going  to  the  scaffold  to  die — like  a coward,  it  is  tru^, 
but  he  was  about  to  die  without  resistance.  Do  you  know  wha', 
gave  him  strength? — do  you  know  what  consoled  him!  Tt  waf, 
that  another  partook  of  his  punishment — his  anguish — and  was  *0 
die  before  him ! Lead  two  sheep  to  the  butcher's,  two  oxen  to 
the  slaughterhouse,  and  make  one  of  them  understand  his  com- 
panion will  not  die  : the  sheen  will  bleat  for  pleasure „ the  ox 


*52 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


bellow  with  joy.  But  man — man,  whom  God  created  in  his  own 
image — *nan,  upon  whom  God  has  laid  his  first,  his  sole  com- 
mandment, to  love  his  neighbor — man,  to  whom  God  has  given 
a voice  to  express  his  thoughts — what  is  his  first  cry  when  he 
hears  his  fellow-man  is  saved?  A blasphemy  ! Honor  to  man, 
this  master-piece  of  nature,  this  king  of  the  creation!  ” And  the 
count  burst  into  a laugh  ; but  a terrible  laugh,  that  showed  he  must 
have  suffered  horribly  to  be  able  thus  to  laugh.  However,  the 
struggle  still  continued,  and  it  was  dreadful  to  witness.  The  people 
all  took  part  against  A n dre a , n ty ^iousand-vt)ie es-cried ^ u Pu t 

him  to  death  ! put  him  to  dead*-!  ” Franz  sprang  back,  but  the 
count  seized  his  arm,  and  held  him  before  the  window.  " What 
are  you  doing  ? ” said  he.  “ Do  you  pity  him  ? If  you  heard  the 
cry  of  1 Mad  dog  ! ' you  would  take  your  gun — you  would  unhesi- 
tatingly shoot  the  poor  beast,  who,  after  all,  was  only  guilty  of 
having  been  bitten  by  another  dog.  And  yet  you  pity  a man  who, 
without  being  bitten  by  one  of  his  race,  has  yet  murdered  his  ben- 
efactor ; and  who,  now  unable  to  kill  any  one,  because  his  hands 
are  bound,  wishes  to  see  his  companion  in  captivity  perish.  No, 
no-— look,  look  ! ” 

This  recommendation  was  needless.  Franz  was  fascinated  by 
the  horrible  spectacle.  The  two  assistants  had  borne  Andrea  to 
the  scaffold,  and  there,  spite  of  his  struggles,  his  bites,  and  his 
cries,  had  forced  him  to  his  knees.  During  this  time  the  execu- 
tioner had  raised  his  mace,  and  signed  to  them  to  get  out  of  the 
way  ; the  criminal  strove  to  rise,  but,  ere  he  had  time,  the  mace 
fell  on  his  left  temple.  A dull  and  heavy  sound  was  heard,  and 
the  man  dropped  like  an  ox  on  his  face,  and  then  turned  over  on 
his  back.  The  executioner  let  fall  his  mace,  drew  his  knife,  and 
with  one  stroke,  opened  his  throat,  and  mounting  on  his  stomach, 
stamped  violently  on  it  with  his  feet.  At  every  stroke  a jet  of 
blood  sprang  from  the  wound. 

This  time  Franz  could  sustain  himself  no  longer,  but  sank,  half 
fainting,  into  a seat.  Albert,  with  his  eyes  closed,  was  standing 
grasping  the  window-curtains.  The  count  was  erect  and  trium- 
phant, like  the  Avenging  Angel. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE  CARNIVAL  AT  ROME. 

When  Franz  recovered  his  senses,  he  saw  Albert  drinking  a 
glass  of  water,  of  which  his  paleness  showed  he  stood  in  great 
need,  and  the  count,  who  was  assuming  his  costume.  He  glanced 
mechanically  toward  the  place  : all  had  disappeared — scaffold, 
executioners,  victims  ; nought  remained  but  the  people,  full  'I 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO \ 


153 


noise  and  excitement.  The  bell  of  Monte  Citorio,  which  only 
sounds  on  the  pope’s  decease  and  the  opening  of  the  Carnival, 
was  ringing  a joyous  peal. 

" Well,”  asked  he  of  the  count,  41  what  has,  then,  happened  ? ” 
“ Nothing,”  replied  the  count  ; " only,  as  you  see,  the  Carnival 
has  commenced.  Make  haste  and  dress  yourself.” "In  re- 

ality/'said  Franz,  "this  horrible  scene  has  passed  away  like  a 
dream.” 

" It  is  but  a dream — the  nightmare  that  has  disturbed  you.'8 
" Yes,  that  I have  suffered  ; but  the  culprit  ? ” 

"That  is  a dream  also  ; only  he  has  remained  asleep,  whilst 
you  have  awoke  ; and  who  knows  which  of  you  is  the  most  for- 
tunate ? ” 

" But  Peppino — what  has  become  of  him?  ” " Peppino  is  a 

lad  of  sense,  who,  unlike  most  men,  who  are  furious  if  they  pass 
unnoticed,  was  delighted  to  see  that  the  general  attention  was 
directed  toward  his  companion.  He  profited  by  this  distraction 
to  slip  away  amongst  the  crowd,  without  even  thanking  the 
Worthy  priests  who  accompanied  him.  Decidedly  man  is  an  un* 
grateful  and  egotistical  animal.  But  dress  yourself ; see,  M.  de 
Morcerf  sets  you  the  example.”  Albert  was  drawing  on  the 
satin  pantaloon  over  his  black  pants  and  varnished  boots. 

" Well,  Albert,”  said  Franz,  " do  you  feel  much  inclined  to  join 
the  revels?  Come,  answer  frankly.” 

"No,”  returned  Albert.  " But  I am  really  glad  to  have  seen 
such  a sight  ; and  I understand  what  the  count  said — that  when 
you  have  once  habituated  yourself  to  a similar  spectacle,  it  is  the 
only  one  that  causes  you  any  emotion.” 

" Without  reflecting,  that  this  is  the  only  moment  in  which  you 
can  study  characters,  said  the  count  ; "on  the  steps  of  the  scaf- 
fold death  tears  off  the  mask  that  has  been  w>orn  through  life,  and 
the  real  visage  is  disclosed.  It  must  be  allowed  Andrea  was  not 
very  handsome,  the  hideous  scoundrel ! Come,  dress  yourselves, 
gentlemen,  dress  yourselves.”  Franz  felt  it  would  be  ridiculous 
not  to  follow'  his  two  companions’  example.  He  assumed  his  cos- 
tume, and  fastened  on  his  mask,  that  scarcely  equaled  the  pallor 
of  his  own  face.  Their  toilette  finished,  they  descended  the  car- 
riage awaited  them  at  the  door,  filled  with  sweetmeats  and  bou- 
quets. They  fell  into  the  line  of  carriages.  It  is  difficult  to  form 
an  idea  of  the  perfect  change  that  had  taken  place.  Instead  of 
the  spectacle  of  gloomy  and  silent  death,  the  Place  del  Popolo 
presented  a spectacle  of  gay  and  noisy  mirth  and  revelry.  Franz 
and  Albert  w^ere  like  men  who,  to  drive  away  a violent  sorrow^, 
have  recourse  to  wine,  and  who,  as  they  drink  and  become  intoxi- 
cated, feel  a thick  veil  drawn  between  the  past  and  the  present. 
They  saw,  or  rather  continued  to  see,  the  image  of  what  they  had 
witnessed  but  little  by  little  the  general  vertigo  seized  them,  and 


*54 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


they  felt  themselves  obliged  to  take  part  in  the  noise  and  con* 

fusion. 

The  strife  had  fairly  commenced,  and  the  recollection  of  what 
they  had  seen  half  an  hour  before  was  gradually  effaced  from 
the  young  men’s  minds,  so  much  were  they  occupied  by  the  gay 
and  glittering  procession  they  now  beheld.  As  for  the  Count  of 
Monte-Cristo,  he  had  never  for  an  instant  shown  any  appearance 
of  having  been  moved.  At  the  second  turn  the  count  stopped  the 
carriage,  and  requested  permission  to  quit  them,  leaving  the  vehicle 
at  their  disposal.  Franz  looked  up — they  were  opposite  the  Ros- 
poli  Palace.  At  the  centre  window,  the  one  hung  with  white  dam- 
ask with  a red  cross,  was  a blue  domino,  beneath  which  Franz’s 
imagination  easily  pictured  the  beautiful  Greek  of  the  Argentina. 
oa  Gentlemen,”  said  the  count,  springing  out,  “when  you  are  tired 
of  being  actors,  and  wish  to  become  spectators  of  this  scene,  you 
know  you  have  places  at  my  windows.  In  the  meantime,  dispose 
of  my  coachman,  my  carriage,  and  my  servants.”  We  have  for- 
gotten to  mention,  that  the  count’s  coachman  was  attired  in  a bear- 
skin, and  the  two  footmen  behind  were  dressed  up  as  green  mon- 
keys, with  spring  masks,  which  grimaced  at  every  one  who  passed. 
Franz  thanked  the  count  for  his  attention.  As  for  Albert,  he  was 
busily  occupied  throwing  bouquets  at  a carriage  full  of  Roman 
peasants  passing  hear  him.  At  one  of  these  encounters,  accident- 
ally or  purposely,  Albert’s  mask  fell  off.  He  instantly  rose  and 
cast  the  remainder  of  the  bouquets  into  the  carriage.  Doubtless 
one  of  the  charming  females  Albert  had  divined  beneath  their  co- 
quettish disguise  was  touched  by  his  gallantry  ; for,  in  her  turn,  as 
the  carriage  of  the  two  friends  passed  her,  she  threw  a bunch  of 
violets  into  it.  Albert  seized  it,  and  as  Franz  had  no  reason  to 
suppose  it  was  addressed  to  him,  he  suffered  Albert  to  retain  it. 
Albert  placed  it  in  his  button-hole,  and  the  carriage  went  trium- 
phantly on. 

*°  Well,”  said  Franz  to  him  ; ••  here  is  the  commencement  of  an 
adventure.” 

The  jest,  soon  appeared  to  become  earnest ; for  when  Albert 
and  Franz  again  encountered  the  carriage,  the  one  who  had 
thrown  the  violets  to  Albert,  clapped  her  hands  when  she  beheld 
them  in  his  button-hole. 

flC  Bravo  ! bravo ! ” said  Franz  ; “ things  go  wonderfully.  Shall 

I leave  you  ? Perhaps  you  would  prefer  being  alone  ? ” “ No 

replied  he  ; “I  will  not  be  caught  like  a fool  at  a first  demonstra- 
tion by  a rendezvous  beneath  the  clock,  as  they  say  at  the  opera- 
balls.  If  the  fair  peasant  wishes  to  carry  matters  any  further,  vre 
shall  find  her,  or  rather,  she  will  find  us  to-morrow  : then  she  will 
give  me  some  sign  or  other,  and  I shall  know  what  I have  to  do.” 

“ On  my  word,”  said  Franz,  '•  you  are  wise  as  Nestor  and  pru- 
dent as  Ulysses,  and  your  fair  Circe  must  be  very  skilful  or  very* 
powerful  if  she  succeed  in  changing  you  into  a beast  of  any  kind.,# 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


i5S 


Albert  was  right ; the  fair  unknown  had  resolved,  doubtless,  to 
Carry  the  intrigue  no  farther ; for  although  the  young  men  made 
several  more  turns,  they  did  not  again  see  the  caleche,  which  had 
turned  up  one  of  the  neighboring  streets.  Then  they  returned  to 
the  Rospoli  Palace  ; but  the  count  and  the  blue  domino  had  also 
disappeared  ; the  two  windows,  hung  with  yellow  damask,  were 
still  occupied  by  the  persons  whom  the  count  had  invited.  At  this 
moment  the  same  bell  that  had  proclaimed  the  commencement  of 
the  mascherata  sounded  the  retreat.  The  file  on  the  Corso  broke 
the  line,  and  in  a second  all  the  carriages  had  disappeared.  Franz 
and  Albert’s  coachman,  without  saying  a word,  drove  up  and 
stopped  at  the  door  of  the  hotel.  Pastrini  came  to  the  door  to  receive 
his  guests.  Franz’s  first  care  was  to  inquire  after  the  count,  and 
to  express  his  regret  that  he  had  not  returned  in  sufficient  time  to 
take  him  ; but  Pastrini  reassured  him  by  saying,  that  the  Count  of 
Monte-Cristo  had  ordered  a second  carriage  for  himself,  and  that 
it  had  gone  at  four  o’clock  to  fetch  him  from  the  Rospoli  Palace. 
The  count  had,  moreover,  charged  him  to  offer  the  two  friends  the 
key  of  his  box  at  the  Argentina.  Franz  questioned  Albert  as  to 
his  intentions  ; but  Albert  had  great  projects  to  put  into  execution 
before  going  to  the  theatre  ; and  instead  of  making  any  answer, 
he  inquired  if  M.  Pastrini  could  procure  him  a tailor  to  make  us 
between  now  and  to-morrow  two  costumes  of  Roman  peasants,'* 
returned  Albert. 

“ We  have  them  ready-made.  Leave  all  to  me  ; and  to-mor- 
row, when  you  wake,  you  shall  find  a collection  of  costumes  with 

which  you  will  be  satisfied.” “My  dear  Albert,”  said  Franz, 

“ leave  all  to  our  host;  he  has  already  proved  himself  full  of  re- 
sources ; let  us  dine  quietly,  and  afterwards  go  and  see  the 
Opera.” 

“Agreed,”  returned  Albert;  “ but  recollect,  Pastrini,  that  both 
my  friend  and  myself  attach  the  greatest  importance  to  having  to- 
morrow the  costumes  we  have  asked  for.”  The  host  again  as- 
sured them  they  might  rely  on  him,  and  that  their  wishes  should  be 
attended  to  ; upon  which  Franz  and  Albert  mounted  to  their  apart- 
ments, and  proceeded  to  disencumber  themselves  of  their  costume. 
Albert,  as  he  took  off  his  dress,  carefully  preserved  the  bunch  of 
violets  ; it  was  his  sign  of  recognition  for  the  morrow.  The  two 
friends  sat  down  to  table  ; but  they  could  not  refrain  from  remark- 
ing the  difference  between  the  table  of  the  Monte-Cristo  and 
Pastrini.  Truth  compelled  Franz,  spite  of  the  dislike  he  seemed 
to  have  taken  to  the  count,  to  confess  that  the  advantage  was  not 
on  Pastrini’ s side.  During  dessert,  the  servant  said  : “ His  ex- 

cellency the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  had  given  positive  orders  that 
the  carriage  was  to  remain  at  their  lordship’s  orders  all  the  day, 
and  they  could  therefore  dispose  of  it  without  fear  of  indiscre- 
tion.” 

They  resolved  to  profit  by  the  count’s  courtesy,  and  ordered  the 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


156 

ft@rses  to  be  harnessed,  whilst  they  substituted  an  evening  costume 
for  that  which  they  had  on,  and  which  was  somewhat  the  worse 
for  the  numerous  combats  they  had  sustained.  This  precaution 
taken,  they  went  to  the  theatre,  and  installed  themselves  in  the 
count's  box.  During  the  first  act,  the  Countess  Guiccioli  entered 
hers.  Her  first  look  was  at  the  loge  where  she  had  seen  the  count 
the  previous  evening,  so  that  she  perceived  Franz  and  Albert  in 
the  box  of  the  very  person  concerning  whom  she  had  expressed  so 
strange  an  opinion  to  Franz.  Her  opera-glass  was  so  fixedly  di- 
rected toward  them,  that  Franz  saw  it  would  be  cruel  not  to  sat- 
isfy her  curiosity  ; and,  availing  himself  of  one  of  the  privileges 
of  the  spectators  of  the  Italian  theatres,  which  consists  in  using 
their  boxes  as  their  drawing-room,  the  two  friends  quitted  their  box 
to  pay  their  respects  to  the  countess.  Scarcely  had  they  entered, 
when  she  motioned  to  Franz  to  assume  the  seat  of  honor.  Albert, 
in  his  turn,  sat  behind. 

“Well,”  said  she,  hardly  giving  Franz  time  to  sit  down,  “il 
seems  you  have  nothing  better  to  do  than  to  make  the  acquaint- 
ance of  this  new  Lord  Ruthven,  and  you  are  the  best  friends  in 

the  world.” 

“ Without  being  so  far  advanced  as  that,  Countess,”  returned 
Franz,  “I  cannot  deny  we  have  abused  his  good  nature  all 

day.” 

“All  day?  You  know  him,  then  ? Very  well.  Did  any  one 
introduce  you  to  him  ?” 

“ No  ; it  was  he  who  introduced  himself  to  us,  last  night,  after 

we  left  you.” 

“ Through  what  medium  ? ” 

“ The  very  prosaic  one  of  our  landlord.” 

“ He  is  staying,  then,  at  the  Hotel  de  Londres  with  you?  M 
“ Not  only  in  the  same  hotel,  but  on  the  same  floor.” 

“ What  is  his  name  : for,  of  course,  you  know?” 

“ The  Count  of  Monte-Cristo,  the  name  of  the  isle  he  has  pur* 
chased.” 

“ And  he  is  a count  ? ” 

{ ’ A Tuscan  count.” 

“Well,  we  must  put  up  with  that,”  said  the  countess,  herself  of 
one  of  the  oldest  families  of  Venice.  " What  sort  of  a man  is 

fcA?” 

“Ask  the  Viscount  de  Morcerf.” 

" You  hear,  M.  de  Morcerf,  I am  referred  to  you,”  said  the 
ccimtess. 

“We  should  be  very  hard  to  please,  madam,”  returned  Albert, 
•"  did  we  not  think  him  delightful : a friend  of  ten  years’  standing 
cculd  not  have  done  more  for  us,  or  with  a more  perfect  courtesy.” 
" Come/’  observed  the  countess,  smiling,  “ I see  my  vampire 
only  smne  mifliqnaue,  who  has  taken  the  appearance  of  Lara 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRIETO.  157 

Ih  order  to  avoid  being  confounded  with  Rothschild  ; and  you 
have  seen  the  beautiful  Greek  of  yesterday/’ 

«<  No  ; we  heard,  I think,  the  sound  of  her  guzla,  but  she  re- 
mained perfectly  invisible.” “When  you  say  invisible/*  in. 

terrupted  Albert,  “it  is  only  to  keep  up  the  mystery  ; for  whom 
do  you  take  the  blue  domino  at  the  window  with  the  white  cur- 
tains at  the  Rospoli  Palace.” 

“ The  count  had  three  windows  at  the  Rospoli  Palace  ? ** 

•*  Yes.  Did  you  pass  through  the  Corso  ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ Well,  did  you  remark  two  windows  hung  with  yellow  damask* 
and  one  with  white  damask  with  a red  cross  ? Those  were  the 
count’s  windows?  ” 

“ Why,  he  must  be  a nabob!  Do  you  know  what  those  thre* 
windows  were  worth?  ” 

“ Two  or  three  hundred  Roman  crowns?” 

“ Two  or  three  thousand  ! ” 

“ The  devil ! ” 

“ Does  his  isle  produce  him  such  a revenue? 

“ It  does  not  bring  him  a bajocco.” 

“ Then  why  did  he  purchase  it?  ” 

“ For  a whim/* 

“ He  is  an  eccentric,  then?  " 

“In  reality,”  observed  Albert,  ,c  he  seemed  to  me  somewhat 
eccentric  ; were  he  at  Paris,  and  a frequenter  of  the  theatres,  I 
should  say  he  was  a poor  devil  literally  mad.  This  morning  he 
made  two  or  three  exits  worthy  of  an  actor.”  At  this  moment 
fresh  visitor  entered,  and,  according  to  custom,  Franz  gave  up  h: 
seat  to  him.  This  circumstance  had,  moreover,  the  effect  c 
changing  the  conversation  ; an  hour  afterward  the  two  friends  re- 
turned to  their  hotel.  Pastrini  had  already  set  about  procuring 
their  disguises  for  the  morrow  ; and  he  assured  them  they  would 
be  perfectly  satisfied.  The  next  morning,  at  nine  o’clock,  he  en- 
tered Franz’s  room,  followed  by  a tailor,  who  had  eight  or  ten  cos. 
stumes  of  Roman  peasants  on  his  arm  ; they  selected  two  exactly 
alike,  and  charged  the  tailor  to  sew  on  each  of  their  hats  about 
twenty  yards  of  riband,  and  to  procure  them  two  of  those  long 
silken  sashes  of  different  colors  with  which  the  lower  orders  de- 
corate themselves  on  holidays.  Franz  complimented  Albert,  who 
looked  at  himself  in  the  glass  with  an  unequivocal  smile  of  satis- 
faction. They  were  thus  engaged  when  the  Count  of  Monte-Crista 
entered. 

“ Gentlemen,”  said  he,  “ although  a companion  is  agreeable, 
perfect  freedom  is  sometimes  still  more  agreeable.  I come  to  say 
that  to-day,  and  the  remainder  of  the  Carnival,  I leave  the  car- 
riage entirely  at  your  disposal.  The  host  will  tell  you  I have  three 
or  four  more,  so  that  you  do  not  deprive  me  in  any  way  of  it, 
Employ  it,  I pray  you,  for  your  pleasure  or  your  business.” 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


IS" 

The  young  men  wished  to  decline,  but  they  could  find  no  good 
reason  for  refusing  an  offer  so  agreeable  to  them.  The  Count  ol 
Monte-Cristo  remained  a quarter  of  an  hour  with  them,  convers- 
ing on  all  subjects  with  the  greatest  ease.  He  was,  as  we  have 
already  said,  perfectly  well  acquainted  with  the  literature  of  all 
countries.  A glance  at  the  walls  of  his  salon  proved  to  Franz  and 
Albert  that  he  was  an  amateur  of  pictures.  A few  words  he  let 
fall  showed  them  he  was  no  stranger  to  the  sciences,  and  he 
seemed  much  occupied  with  chemistry.  The  two  friends  did  not 
venture  to  return  the  count  the  breakfast  he  had  given  them  :*  it 
would  have  been  too  absurd  to  offer  him  in  exchange  for  his  ex- 
cellent table  the  very  inferior  one  of  Pastrini.  They  told  him  so 
frankly,  and  he  received  their  excuses  with  the  air  of  a man  who 
appreciated  their  delicacy.  Albert  was  charmed  with  the  count’s 
manners,  and  he  was  only  prevented  from  recognizing  him  for  a 
veritable  gentleman  by  his  science.  The  permission  to  do  what  he 
liked  with  the  carriage  pleased  him  above  all,  for  the  fair  peasants 
had  appeared  in  a most  elegant  carriage  the  preceding  evening, 
and  Albert  was  not  sorry  to  be  upon  an  equal  footing  with  them. 
At  half-past  one  they  descended  ; the  coachman  and  footman  had 
put  on  their  livery  over  their  disguises,  which  gave  them  a more 
ridiculous  appearance  than  ever,  and  which  gained  them  the  ap- 
lause  of  Franz  and  Albert.  Albert  had  fastened  the  faded 
unch  of  violets  to  his  button-hole.  At  the  first  sound  of  the  bell 
aey  hastened  into  the  Corso  by  the  Via  Vittoria.  At  the  second 
turn,  a bunch  of  fresh  violets,  thrown  from  a carriage  filled 
with  female  clowns,  indicated  to  Albert  that,  like  himself  and 
his  friend,  the  peasants  had  changed  their  costume  also  ; and 
whether  it  was  the  result  of  chance,  or  whether  a similar  feeling 
had  possessed  them  both,  whilst  he  had  changed  his  costume  they 
had  assumed  his. 

It  is  almost  needless  to  say  that  the  flirtation  between  Albert  and 
the  fair  peasant  continued  all  day.  In  the  evening,  on  his  return, 
Franr  found  a letter  from  the  embassy,  to  inform  him  he  would 
have  the  honor  of  being  received  by  his  holiness  the  next  day.  On 
his  return  from  the  Vatican,  Franz  brought  away  with  him  a 
treasure  of  pious  thoughts,  to  which  the  mad  gaiety  would  have 
been  profanation.  At  ten  miuutes  past  five  Albert  entered  over- 
joyed. The  clown  had  resumed  her  peasant’s  costume,  and  as 
she  passed  she  raised  her  mask.  She  was  charming.  Franz  con- 
gratulated Albert,  who  received  his  congratulations  with  the  air  of 
a man  conscious  they  are  merited.  He  had  recognized,  by  certain 
unmistakable  signs,  that  his  fair  incognita  belonged  to  the  aristoc- 
rasy.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  write  to  her  the  next  day. 

The  next  morning  he  saw  Albert  pass  and  repass.  He  held  an 
enormous  bouquet,  which  he  doubtless  meant  to  make  the  bearer 
of  his  amorous  epistle.  This  belief  was  changed  into  certainty 
VvTeo  Fvttnsr  a§uv  the  bouquet  (re  markable by  a circle  of  whit# 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CJUSTO. 


*59 


camellias)  \ n the  hand  of  a charming  clown  dressed  in  rose 
•colored  satin.  The  evening  was  no  longer  joy,  but  delirium 
Albert  nothing  doubted  but  that  the  fair  unknown  would  reply 
in  the  same  manner.  Franz  anticipated  his  wishes  by  telling  him 
the  noise  fatigued  him,  and  that  he  should  pass  the  next  day  in 
writing  and  looking  over  his  journal.  Albert  was  not  deceived, 
for  the  next  evening  Franz  saw  him  enter  shaking  triumphantly  a 
folded  paper  he  held  by  one  corner.  “ Well,”  said  he,“  was  I mis- 
taken ? ” “ She  has  answered  you  ! ” cried  Franz. 

•c  Read  ! ” This  word  was  pronounced  in  a manner  impossible 
to  describe.  Franz  took  the  letter,  and  read ; 

“ Tuesday  evening,  at  seven  o’clock,  descend  from  your  car- 
riage opposite  the  Via  dei  Pontefici,  and  follow  the  Roman  peasant 
who  snatches  your  moccoletto  from  you.  When  you  arrive  at  the  first 
step  of  the  church  of  San  Giacomo,  be  sure  to  fasten  a knot  of 
rose-colored  ribands  to  the  shoulder  of  your  costume,  in  order  that 
you  may  be  recognized.  Until  then  you  will  not  see  me. — Con- 
stancy and  Discretion.” 

“Well,”  asked  he,  when  Franz  had  finished,  “what  do  you 
think  of  that.” 

“ I think  the  adventure  is  assuming  a very  agreeable  appear- 
ance.” 

“I  think  so  also,”  replied  Albert;  “ and  I very  much  fear 
you  will  go  alone  to  the  Duke  of  Bracciano’s  ball.”  Franz  and 
Albert  had  received  that  morning  an  invitation  from  the  cele- 
brated Roman  banker.  “Take  care,  Albert,”  said  Franz.  “All 
the  nobility  of  Rome  will  be  present ; and  if  your  fair  incognita 
belong  to  the  higher  class  of  society,  she  must  go  there.” 

“ Whether  she  goes  there  or  not,  my  opinion  is  still  the  same,” 
returned  Albert. 

“ If  my  unknown  be  as  amiable  as  she  is  beautiful,”  said  Al- 
bert, “ I shall  fix  myself  at  Rome  for  six  weeks,  at  least.  I adore 
Rome,  and  I have  always  had  a great  taste  for  archaeology.” 

“ Come,  two  or  three  more  such  adventures,  and  I do  not  de« 
spair  of  seeing  you  a member  of  the  academy.”  Doubtless  Al- 
bert was  about  to  discuss  seriously  his  right  to  the  academic 
chair  when  they  were  informed  dinner  was  ready.  After  dinner, 
the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  was  announced.  They  had  not  seen 
him  for  two  days.  Pastrini  informed  them  that  business  had 
called  him  to  Civita  Vecchia.  He  had  started  the  previous  even- 
ing, and  had  only  returned  an  hour  since.  The  count  had  learned 
the  two  friends  had  sent  to  secure  a box  at  the  Argentina  Theatre, 
and  were  told  they  were  all  let.  In  consequence,  he  brought 
them  the.  key  of  his  own — at  least  such  was  the  apparent  motive 
of  his  visit.  Franz  and  Albert  made  some  difficulty,  alleging  their 
fear  of  depriving  him  of  it ; but  the  count  replied  that.  °as  fcf 


160 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


was  going  to  the  Palli  Theatre,  the  box  at  the  Argentina  would  be 
lost  if  they  did  not  profit  by  it.  This  assurance  determined  the 
two  friends  to  accept  it. 

Franz  had  become  by  degree  accustomed  to  the  count’s  pale- 
ness, which  had  so  forcibly  struck  him  the  first  time  fee  saw  him. 
He  could  not  refrain  from  admiring  the  severe  beauty  of  his  feat- 
ures, the  only  defect,  or  rather  the  principal  quality  of  which  was 
the  pallor.  Veritable  hero  of  Byron  ! The  count  was  no  longer 
young.  He  was  at  least  forty  ; and  yet  it  was  easy  to  understand 
he  was  formed  to  rule  the  young  men  with  whom  he  associated  at 
present.  In  reality,  to  complete  his  resemblance  with  the  fantastic 
heroes  of  the  English  poet,  the  count  seemed  to  have  the  power  of 
fascination.  Albert  was  constantly  expatiating  on  their  good  for- 
tune in  meeting  such  a man.  Franz  was  less  enthusiastic  ; but  the 
count  exercised  over  him  also  the  ascendency  a strong  mind  always 
acquires. 

At  length  arrived  Tuesday,  the  last  and  most  tumultuous  day  of 
the  Carnival.  Tuesday,  the  theatres  open  at  ten  o’clock  in  the 
morning,  as  Lent  begins  after  eight  at  night.  On  Tuesday,  all 
those  who  through  want  of  money,  time  or  enthusiasm,  have  not 
been  to  see  the  Carnival  before,  mingle  in  the  gaiety,  and  contrib- 
ute to  the  noise  and  excitement.  From  two  o’clock  till  five  Franz 
and  Albert  followed  in  the  fete,  exchanging  handfuls  of  confetti 
with  the  other  carriages  and  the  pedestrians,  who  crowded  amongst 
the  horses’  feet  and  the  carriage  wheels  without  a single  accident, 
a single  dispute,  or  a single  fight.  The  fetes  are  veritable  days  of 
pleasure  to  the  Italians.  The  author  of  this  history,  who  has  re- 
sided five  or  six  years  in  Italy,  does  not  recollect  to  have  ever  seen 
a ceremony  interrupted  by  one  of  those  events  so  common  in  other 
countries.  Albert  was  triumphant  in  his  costume.  A knot  of  rose* 
colored  ribands  fell  from  his  shoulder  almost  to  the  ground.  In 
order  that  there  might  be  no  confusion,  Franz  wore  his  peasant’s 
costume. 

As  the  day  advanced,  the  tumult  became  greater.  There  was 
not  on  the  pavement,  in  the  carriages,  at  the  windows,  a single 
tongue  that  was  silent,  a single  arm  that  did  not  move.  It  was  a 
human  storm,  composed  of  a thunder  of  cries,  and  a hail  of  sweet- 
meats, flowers,  eggs,  oranges,  and  nosegays.  At  three  o’ clock  the 
sound  of  fireworks,  (heard  with  difficulty  amid  the  din  and  cor' 
fusion)  announced  that  the  races  were  about  to  begin.  The  races, 
like  the  moccoli,  are  one  of  the  episodes  peculiar  to  the  last  days 
of  the  Carnival.  At  the  sound  of  the  fireworks  the  carriages  in- 
stantly broke  the  ranks,  and  retired  by  the  adjacent  streets.  All 
fhese  evolutions  are  executed  with  an  inconceivable  address  and 
marvellous  rapidity,  without  the  police  interfering  in  the  matter. 
The  pedestrians  ranged  themselves  against  the  walls  ; then  the 
trampling  of  horses  and  the  clashing  of  steel  were  heard.  A de- 
tachment of  carabineers,  fifteen  abreast,  galloped  up  the  Corso  in 


THE  COUNT  01  MJNTE  CRISTO . 


l6l 


order  to  clear  it  for  the  barberi.  When  the  detachment  arrived  at 
the  Place  de  Venise,  a second  volley  of  fireworks  was  discharged, 
to  announce  that  the  street  was  clear.  Almost  instantly,  in  the 
midst  of  a tremendous  and  general  outcry,  seven  or  eight  horses, 
excited  by  the  shouts  of  three  hundred  thousand  spectators,  passed 
by  like  lightning.  Then  the  Castle  of  Saint  Angelo  fired  three 
cannons  to  indicate  that  number  three  had  won.  Immediately, 
without  any  other  signal,  the  carriages  moved  on,  flowing  on  to- 
ward the  Corso,  down  all  the  streets,  like  torrents  pent  up  for  a 
while,  which  again  flow  into  the  parent  river  ; and  the  immense 
stream  again  continued  its  course  between  its  two  banks  of  granite. 

A new  source  of  noise  and  movement  was  added  to  the  crowd. 
The  sellers  of  moccoletti  entered  on  the  scene.  The  moccoli , or 
moccoletti , are  candles  which  vary  in  size  from  the  pascal  taper  to 
the  rushlight,  and  which  cause  the  actors  on  the  great  scene  which 
terminates  the  Carnival  two  different  sources  of  thought: — ist. 
How  to  preserve  their  moccoletto  alight.  2nd.  How  to  extinguish 
the  moccoletti  of  others.  The  moccoletto  is  like  life  : man  has 
found  but  one  means  of  transmitting  it.  But  he  has  discovered  a 
thousand  means  of  taking  it  away,  although  the  devil  has  some- 
what aided  him.  The  moccoletto  is  kindled  by  approaching  it  to  a 
light.  But  who  can  describe  the  thousand  means  of  extinguishing 
the  moccoletto  ? — the  gigantic  bellows,  the  monstrous  extinguishers, 
the  superhuman  fans.  Every  one  hastened  to  purchase  moccoletti — 
Franz  and  Albert  among  the  rest. 

The  night  was  rapidly  approaching  ; and  already,  at  the  cry  of 
" Moccoletto  \ ” repeated  by  the  shrill  voices  of  a thousand  ven- 
dors, two  or  three  stars  began  to  burn  among  the  crowd.  It  was  a 
signal.  At  the  end  of  ten  minutes  fifty  thousand  lights  glittered, 
descending  from  the  Venice  Palace  to  the  Popolo,  and  mounting 
from  the  Popolo  to  the  Venice.  It  seemed  the  fete  of  Jack-o’^ 
lanterns.  It  is  impossible  to  form  any  idea  of  it  without  having 
seen  it.  Suppose  all  the  stars  had  descended  from  the  sky  and 
mingled  in  a wild  dance  on  the  face  of  the  earth  ; the  whole  accom- 
panied by  cries  that  were  never  heard  in  any  other  part  of  the 
world.  The  facchino  follows  the  prince,  the  Transtevere  the  citi- 
zen, every  one  blowing,  extinguishing,  relighting.  Had  old 
Aeolus  appeared  at  this  moment,  he  would  have  been  proclaimed 
king  of  the  moccoli , and  Aquilo  the  heir-presumptive  to  the  throne. 
This  flaming  race  continued  for  two  hours  ; the  Corso  was  light  af 
day  ; the  features  of  the  spectators  on  the  third  and  fourth  stories 
were  visible.  Every  five  minutes  Albert  took  out  his  watch  ; at 
length  it  pointed  to  seven.  The  two  friends  were  in  the  Via  dei 
Pontefici.  Albert  sprang  out,  bearing  his  moccoletto  in  his  hand. 
Two  or  three  masks  strove  to  knock  his  moccoletto  out  of  his  hand  : 
but  Albert,  a first-rate  pugilist,  send  them  rolling  in  the  street,  one 
after  the  other,  and  continued  his  course  towards  the  church  of 
San  Giacomo.  The  steps  were  crowded  with  masks,  who  strove  to 

II 


1 62 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


snatch  each  other’s  flambeau.  Franz  followed  Albert  with  his  eyes, 
and  saw  him  mount  the  first  step.  Instantly  a mask,  wearing  the 
well-known  costume  of  a female  peasant,  snatched  his  moccoletto 
from  him  without  his  offering  any  resistance.  Franz  was  too  far 
off  to  hear  what  they  said,  but,  without  doubt,  nothing  hostile 
passed,  for  he  saw  Albert  disappear  arm-in-arm  with  the  peasant 
girl.  He  watched  them  pass  through  the  crowd  some  time,  but  at 
length  he  lost  sight  of  them  in  the  Via  Macello.  Suddenly  the 
bell  that  gives  the  signal  for  the  end  of  the  Carnival  sounded,  and 
at  the  same  instant  all  the  moccoletti  were  extinguished  as  if  by 
enchantment.  It  seemed  as  though  one  immense  blast  of  the  wind 
had  extinguished  every  one.  Franz  found  himself  in  utter  dark- 
ness. The  Carnival  was  finished. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  CATACOMBS. 

In  his  whole  life,  perhaps,  Franz  had  never  before  experienced 
so  sudden  an  impression,  so  rapid  a transition  from  gaiety  to  sad- 
ness, as  in  this  moment.  It  seemed  as  though  Rome,  under  the 
magic  breath  of  some  demon  of  the  night,  had  suddenly  changed 
into  a vast  tomb.  By  a chance,  which  added  yet  more  to  the  in- 
tensity of  the  darkness,  the  moon,  which  was  on  the  wane,  did  not 
rise  until  eleven  o’clock, , and  the  streets  which  the  young  man 
traversed  were  plunged  in  the  deepest  obscurity.  The  distance 
was  short : and  at  the  end  of  ten  minutes  his  carriage,  or  rather 
the  count’s  stopped  before  the  Hotel  de  Londres.  Dinner  was 
waiting  ; but  as  Albert  had  told  him  that  he  should  not  return  so 
soon,  Franz  sat  down  without  him. 

Franz  resolved  to  wait  for  Albert  as  late  as  possible.  He  ordered 
the  carriage,  therefore,  for  eleven  o'clock,  desiring  Pastrini  to  in- 
form him  the  moment  Albert  returned  to  the  hotel.  At  eleven 
o’clock  Albert  had  not  come  back.  Franz  dressed  himself,  and 
went  out,  telling  his  host  that  he  was  going  to  pass  the  night  at  the 
duke  of  Bracciano’s.  The  house  of  the  Bracciano  is  one  of  the 
most  delightful  in  Rome  ; his  lady,  one  of  the  last  Colonnas,  does 
its  honors  with  the  most  consummate  grace,  and  thus  their  fetes 
have  a European  celebrity.  Franz  and  Albert  had  brought  to 
Rome  letters  of  introduction  to  them  ; and  the  first  question  on 
Franz’s  arrival  was  to  ask  him  where  was  his  traveling  companion. 
Franz  replied  that  he  had  left  him  at  the  moment  they  were  about 
to  extinguish  the  moccoli , and  that  he  had  lost  sight  of  him  in  the 
Via  Macello.  " Then  he  has  not  returned  ? ’’  said  the  duke. 

M I waited  for  him  until  this  hour,35  replied  Franz. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  163 

••And  do  you  know  whither  he  went?  ’ “ No,  not  precisely  £ 

however,  I think  it  was  something  very  like  a love  assignation.” 
"You  should  not  have  allowed  him  to  go,”  said  the  duke  to 
Franz  ; " You,  who  know  Rome  better  than  he  does.” 

*•  You  might  as  well  have  tried  to  stop  number  three  of  the 
steeds,  who  gained  the  prize  in  the  race  to-day,”  replied  Franz; 
•«  and  then,  moreover,  what  could  happen  to  him? ” 

"Who  can  tell?  The  night  is  gloomy,  and  the  Tiber  is  very 
near  the  Via  Macello.”  Franz  felt  a shudder  run  through  his 
veins  at  observing  the  feeling  of  the  duke  and  the  countess  so 
much  in  unison  with  his  own  personal  disquietude.  “1  informed 
them  at  the  hotel  that  I had  the  honor  of  passing  the  night  here, 
duke,”  said  Franz,  " and  desired  them  to  come  and  inform  me  of 
his  return.” 

" Ah  ! ” replied  the  duke,  " here,  I think,  is  one  of  my  servants 
who  is  seeking  you.” 

The  duke  was  not  mistaken  ; when  he  saw  Franz,  the  servant 
came  up  to  him.  " Your  excellency,”  he  said,  " the  master  of  the 
Hotel  has  sent  to  let  you  know  that  a man  is  waiting  for  you  with 
a letter  from  the  Viscount  de  Morcerf.” "A  letter  from  the  vis- 

count ! ” exclaimed  Franz. 

" And  where  is  the  messenger  ! ” 

" He  went  away  directly  he  saw  me  enter  the  ball-room  to  find 
you.” 

"Oh!  ” said  the  countess  to  Franz,  "go  with  all  speed — poor 
young  man  ? Perhaps  some  accident  has  happened  to  him.” 
Franz  took  his  hat  and  went  away  in  haste.  He  had  sent  away 
his  carriage  with  orders  for  it  to  fetch  him  at  two  o’clock  : fortu- 
nately the  Palazzo  Bracciano,  which  is  on  one  side  in  the  Corso 
and  on  the  other  in  the  Place  des  Saints  Apotres,  is  hardly  ten 
minutes’  walk  from  the  Hotel  de  Londres.  As  he  came  near  the 
hotel,  Franz  saw  a man  in  the  centre  of  the  street.  He  had  no 
doubt  that  it  was  the  messenger  from  Albert.  The  man  was 
wrapped  up  in  a large  cloak.  He  went  up  to  him,  but,  to  his  extreme 
astonishment,  this  individual  first  addressed  him.  " What  wants 
your  excellency  of  me?”  inquired  the  man,  retreating  a step  or 
two,  as  if  to  keep  on  his  guard. 

"Are  not  you  the  person  who  brought  me  a letter,”  inquired 
Franz,  " from  the  Viscount  Morcerf?  ” 

" Your  excellency’s  name ” 

"Is  Baron  Franz  d’Epinay.” 

" Then  it  is  to  your  excellency  that  this  letter  is  addressed.” 

“ Is  there  any  answer?  ” inquired  Franz,  taking  the  letter  from 

him. 

“ Yes — your  friend  at  least  hopes  so.” " Come  up-stairs  with 

me,  and  I will  give  it  to  you,” — I prefer  waiting  here,”  said 

the  messenger,  with  a smile* 

••  And  w ky? 


164  the  count  of  monte  cr/sto. 


9t  Your  excellency  will  know  when  you  have  read  the  letter.” 

Franz  entered  the  hotel.  On  the  staircase  he  met  Pastrini. 

**  You  have  seen  the  man  who  desired  to  speak  with  you  from 
your  friend  ? ” he  asked  of  Franz. 

“ Yes,  I have  seen  him,”  he  replied,  “ and  he  has  handed  this 
tetter  to  me.  Light  the  candle  in  my  apartment,  if  you  please.” 
The  innkeeper  gave  orders  to  a servant  to  go  before  Franz  with  a 
candle.  The  young  man  had  found  Pastrini  looking  very  much 
alarmed,  and  this  had  only  made  him  the  more  anxious  to  read 
Albert’s  letter  ; and  thus  he  went  instantly  towards  the  waxlight, 
and  unfolded  the  letter. 

" My  dear  fellow, — The  moment  you  have  received  this, 
have  the  kindness  to  take  from  my  pocket-book,  which  you  will  find 
in  the  square  drawer  of  the  secretary,  the  letter  of  credit ; add  your 
own  to  it,  if  it  be  not  sufficient.  Run  to  Torlonia,  draw  from  him 
instantly  four  thousand  piastres,  and  give  them  to  the  bearer.  It 
is  urgent  that  I should  have  this  money  without  delay.  I do  not 
say  more,  relying  on  you  as  you  may  rely  on  me. 

“ Your  friend,  Albert  de  Morcerf. 

u P.S. — I now  believe  in  Italian  banditti.” 

Below  these  lines  were  written,  in  a strange  hand,  in  Italian  ; 
what  reads  in  English  thus  : 

* ‘ If  by  six  in  the  morning  the  four  thousand  piastres  are  not  in 
my  hands , by  seven  o clock  the  Visconnt  Albert  de  Morcerf  will  have 
ceased  to  live."  * ‘ Luigi  Vamp  a." 

This  second  signature  explained  all  to  Franz,  who  now  under- 
stood the  objection  of  the  messenger  to  coming  up  into  the  apart- 
ment ; the  street  was  safer  for  him.  Albert,  then,  had  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  the  famous  chief  of  banditti  in  whose  existence  he  had  for 
so  long  a time  refused  to  believe.  There  was  no  time  to  lose.  He 
hastened  to  open  the  secretaire,  and  found  the  pocket-book  in  the 
drawer,  and  in  it  the  letter  of  credit.  There  were  in  all  six  thous- 
and piastres,  but  of  these  six  thousand  Albert  had  already  expended 
three  thousand.  As  to  Franz,  he  had  no  letter  of  credit,  as  he 
lived  at  Florence,  and  had  only  come  to  Rome  to  pass  seven  or 
eight  days  ; he  had  brought  but  a hundred  louis,  and  of  these  he 
had  no  more  than  fifty  left.  Thus  seven  or  eight  hundred  piastres 
were  wanting  to  them  both  to  make  up  the  sum  that  Albert  re- 
quired. True,  he  might  in  such  a case  rely  on  the  kindness  of  M. 
Torlonia.  He  was,  therefore,  about  to  return  to  the  Palazza  Brac- 
ciano  without  loss  of  time,  when  suddenly  a luminous  idea  crossed 
his  mind.  He  remembered  the  count  of  Monte-Cristo.  Franz 
was  about  to  ring  for  Pastrini,  when  that  worthy  presented  him- 
self. Franz  went  along  the  corridor,  and  a servant  introduced 


165 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRIS7V. 

him  to  the  count.  He  was  in  a small  cabinet  which  Franz  had  not 
yet  seen,  and  which  was  surrounded  with  sofas.  The  count  came 
towards  him.  44  Well,  what  good  wind  blows  you  hither  at  this 
hour  ?”  said  he  ; “ have  you  come  to  sup  with  me  ? It  would  be 
very  kind  of  you.” 

No  ; I have  come  to  speak  to  you  of  a very  serious  matter.” 
Franz  gave  him  Albert’s  letter.  44  Read  that,”  he  said.  The 
count  read  it. 

“ Ah  ! ah  ! ” said  he. 

««  Did  you  see  the  postcript?  What  think  you  of  that!  ” inquired 
Franz. 

11  Have  you  the  money  he  demands  ? ” 

“ Yes  all  but  eight  hundred  piastres.”  The  count  went  to  his 
secretary,  opened  it,  and  pulling  out  a drawer  filled  with  gold,  said 
to  Franz, — 44  I hope  you  will  not  offend  me  by  applying  to  any 
one  but  myself.” 

“ You  see,  on  the  contrary,  I come  to  you  first  and  instantly,” 

replied  Franz. 4*  And  I thank  you  ; have  what  you  will ; ’’  and 

he  made  a sign  to  Franz  to  take  what  he  pleased. 

“Is  it  absolutely  necessary,  then,  to  send  the  money  to. Luigi 
Vampa?  " asked  the  young  man,  looking  fixedly  in  his  turn  at  the 
count. 

“ I think  that  if  you  would  take  the  trouble  of  reflecting,  you 
could  find  a way  of  simplifying  the  negotiation,”  said  Franz. 

44  How  so  ? ” returned  the  count,  with  surprise. 

“ If  we  were  to  go  together  to  Luigi  Vampa,  I am  sure  he  would 
not  refuse  you  Albert’s  freedom.” 

“ What  influence  can  I possibly  have  over  a bandit  ? ” 

44  Have  you  not  saved  Peppino’s  life  ? ” 

“ Ah  ! ah  ! ” said  the  count,  “ who  told  you  that  ? ” 

“No  matter,  I know  it.”  The  count  knit  his  brows,  and  re- 
mained silent  an  instant.  44  And  if  I went  to  seek  Vampa,  would 
you  accompany  me  ? ” 

41  If  my  society  would  not  be  disagreeable.” 44  Be  it  so.  It 

is  a lovely  night,  and  a walk  without  Rome  will  do  us  both  good. 
Where  is  the  man  who  brought  the  letter? ” 

“In  the  street.” 

“ I must  learn  where  we  are  going.  I will  summon  him  hither,” 
44  It  is  useless  : he  would  not  come  up.” 

44  To  your  apartments  perhaps  ; but  he  will  not  make  any  diffi- 
culty in  entering  mine.”  The  count  went  to  the  window  that 
looked  on  to  the  street,  and  whistled  in  a peculiar  manner.  The 
man  in  the  mantle  quitted  the  wall,  and  advanced  into  the  centre 
of  the  street.  44  Salite  ! ” said  the  count,  in  the  same  tone  in  which 
he  would  have  given  an  order  to  his  servant.  The  messenger 
obeyed  without  the  least  hesitation,  but  rather  with  alacrity,  and, 
mounting  the  steps  of  the  passage  at  a bound,  entered  the  hotel; 
five  seconds  afterwards  he  was  at  the  door  of  the  cabinet.  *4  AL, 


1 66 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1STO. 


it  is  you,  Peppino,”  said  the  count,  But  Peppino,  instead  of  an^ 
swering,  threw  himself  on  his  knees,  seized  the  count’s  hand,  and 
covered  it  with  kisses.  11  Ah,”  said  the  count,  “you  have,  then, 
not  forgotten  that  I saved  your  life  ; that  is  strange,  for  it  is  a week 
*go! ” 

“ No,  excellency  ; and  never  shall  I forget  it,”  returned  Peppino, 
With  an  accent  of  profound  gratitude. 

“ Never  ! That  is  a long  time  ; but  it  is  something  that  you  be- 
lieve so.  Rise  and  answer.”  Peppino  glanced  anxiously  at  Franz. 
“ Oh,  you  may  speak  before  his  excellency,”  said  he  : “he  is  one 
of  my  friends.  You  allow  me  to  give  you  this  title?  ” continued 
the  count  in  French  ; “ it  is  necessary  to  excite  this  man’s  confi- 
dence.” 

“You  can  speak  before  me,”  said  Franz  ; “ I am  a friend  of  the 
count’s.” 

“ Good  ! ” returned  Peppino,  “ I am  ready  to  answer  any  ques- 
tion your  excellency  may  address  to  me.” 

“ How  did  the  Viscount  Albert  fall  into  Luigi’s  hands?  ” 

“Excellency,  the  Frenchman’s  carriage  passed  several  times 
the  one  in  which  was  Teresa.” “ The  chief’s  mistress?  ” 

“ Yes.  The  Frenchman  threw  her  a bouquet ; Teresa  returned 
it ; all  this  with  the  consent  of  the  chief,  who  drove,  as  the  coach- 
man,” replied  Peppino.  “Well,  then,  the  Frenchman  took  off 
his  mask;  Teresa,  with  the  chief’s  consent,  did  the  same.  The 
Frenchman  asked  for  a rendezvous  ; Teresa  gave  him  one — only, 
instead  of  Teresa,  it  was  Beppo  who  was  on  the  steps  of  the 
Church  of  San  Giacomo.” 

“What!  ” exclaimed  Franz,  “the  peasant  girl  who  snatched 
his  moccoletto  from  him ” 

“ Was  a lad  of  fifteen,”  replied  Peppino.  “ But  it  was  no  dis- 
grace to  your  friend  to  have  been  deceived  ; Beppo  has  taken  in 
plenty  of  others.” 

“ And  Beppo  led  him  outside  the  walls?  ” said  the  count. 

“ Exactly  so  ; a carriage  was  waiting  at  the  end  of  Via  Macello. 
Beppo  got  in,  inviting  the  Frenchman  to  follow  him,  and  he  did 
not  wait  to  be  asked  twice.  He  gallantly  offered  the  right-hand 
seat  to  Beppo,  and  sat  by  him.  Beppo  told  him  he  was  going  to 
take  him  to  a villa  a league  from  Rome  ; the  Frenchman  assured 
him  he  would  follow  him  to  the  end  of  the  world.  The  coachman 
went  up  the  Rue  di  Ripetta  and  the  Porte  San  Paolo  ; and  when 
they  were  two  hundred  yards  outside,  as  the  Frenchman  became 
somewhat  too  forward,  Beppo  put  a brace  of  pistols  to  his  head, 
the  coachman  pulled  up,  and  did  the  same.  At  the  same  time, 
four  of  the  band,  who  were  concealed  on  the  banks  of  the  Almo, 
surrounded  the  carriage.  The  Frenchman  made  some  resistance, 
and  nearly  strangled  Beppo  ; but  he  could  not  resist  five  armed 
men,  and  was  forced  to  yield.  They  made  him  get  out,  walk 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


1 67 


along  the  banks  of  the  river,  and  then  brought  him  to  Teresa  and 
Luigi,  who  were  waiting  for  him  in  the  catacombs  of  St.  Sebastian.” 

“Well,”  said  the  count,  turning  towards  Franz,  “it  seems  to 
me  that  this  is  a very  likely  story.  He  is  in  a very  picturesque 
place — do  you  know  the  catacombs  of  St.  Sebastian?” 

“ I was  never  in  them,  but  I have  often  resolved  to  visit  them.” 

“Well,  here  is  an  opportunity.  Have  you  a carriage ? ” 

“ No.” 

“That  is  of  no  consequence  ; I always  have  one  ready,  day  and 
night,  I am  a very  capricious  being,  and  I should  tell  you  that 
sometimes  when  I rise,  or  after  my  dinner,  or  in  the  middle  of  the 
night.  I resolve  on  starting  for  some  particular  point,  and  away  I 
go.”  The  count  rang,  and  a footman  appeared.  “ Order  out  the 
carriage,”  he  said,  “and  remove  the  pistols  which  are  in  the 
holsters.  You  need  not  awaken  the  coachman  ; Ali  will  drive.” 
In  a very  short  time  the  noise  of  wheels  was  heard,  and  the  car- 
riage stopped  at  the  door.  The  count  took  out  his  watch.  “ Half- 
past twelve,”  he  said.  “ We  might  start  at  five  o’clock  and  be  in 
time,  but  the  delay  may  cause  your  friend  to  pass  an  uneasy  night, 
and  therefore  we  had  better  go  with  all  speed  to  extricate  him  from 
the  hands  of  the  infidels.” 

Franz  and  the  count  went  down-stairs,  accompanied  by  Peppino. 
At  the  door  they  found  the  carriage.  Ali  was  on  the  box,  in  whom 
Franz  recognized  the  dumb  slave  of  the  grotto  of  Monte-Cristo. 
Franz  and  the  count  got  into  the  carriage.  Peppino  placed  him- 
self beside  Ali,  and  they  set  off  at  a rapid  pace.  Ali  had  received 
his  instructions,  and  reached  the  gates  of  St.  Sebastian.  There 
the  porter  raised  some  difficulties,  but  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo 
produced  an  authority  from  the  governor  of  Rome  to  quit  or  enter 
the  city  at  any  and  all  hours  of  the  day  or  night ; the  portcullis 
was  therefore  raised,  the  porter  had  a louis  for  his  trouble,  and 
they  went  on  their  way.  The  road  which  the  carriage  now 
traversed  was  the  ancient  Appian  Way,  and  bordered  with  tombs. 
From  time  to  time,  by  the  light  of  the  moon,  which  began  to  rise. 
Franz  imagined  that  he  saw  something  like  a sentinel  appear  from 
various  points  of  the  ruin,  and  suddenly  retreat  into  the  darkness 
on  a signal  from  Peppino.  A short  time  before  they  reached  the 
circus  of  Caracalla  the  carriage  stopped,  Peppino  opened  the  door, 
and  the  count  and  Franz  alighted. 

“ In  ten  minutes,”  said  the  count  to  his  companion,  “we  shall 
arrive  there.” 

He  then  took  Peppino  aside,  gave  him  some  order  in  a low 
voice,  and  Peppino  went  away,  taking  with  him  a torch,  brought 
with  them  in  the  carriage.  Five  minutes  elapsed,  during  which 
Franz  saw  the  shepherd  advance  along  a narrow  path  in  the  midst 
of  the  irregular  ground  which  forms  the  convulsed  soil  of  the 
plain  of  Rome,  and  disappear  in  the  midst  of  the  high  red  herbage, 
which  seemed  like  the  bristling  mane  of  some  enormous  lion* 


i68 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


51  Now,"  said  the  count,  “let  us  follow  him.”  Franz  and  the 
count  in  their  turn  then  advanced  along  the  same  path,  which  led 
them  by  various  ways,  to  a burial-ground.  Five  roads  diverged 
like  the  rays  of  a star,  and  the  walls,  dug  into  niches,  placed  one 
above  the  other  in  the  shape  of  coffins,  showed  that  they  were  at 
last  in  the  catacombs.  In  one  of  the  cavities,  whose  extent  it  was 
impossible  to  determine,  some  rays  of  light  were  visible.  The 
count  laid  his  hand  on  Franz’s  shoulder.  “Would  you  like  to  see 
a camp  of  bandits  in  repose?”  he  inquired.  “Come  with  me, 
then.  Peppino,  extinguished  the  torch.”  Peppino  obeyed,  and 
Franz  and  the  count  were  suddenly  in  utter  darkness,  only  fifty 
paces  in  advance  of  them  there  played  along  the  wall  some  red- 
dish beams  of  light,  more  visible  since  Peppino  had  put  out  his 
torch.  They  advanced  silently,  the  count  guiding  Franz  as  if  he 
had  the  singular  faculty  of  seeing  in  the  dark.  Franz,  himself,  how- 
ever, distinguished  his  way  more  plainly  in  proportion  as  he  ad- 
vanced towards  the  rays  of  light,  which  served  them  for  guides  : 
three  arcades,  of  which  the  middle  served  as  the  door,  offered 
themselves.  These  arcades  opened  on  one  side  to  the  corridor,  in 
which  were  the  count  and  Franz,  and  on  the  other  to  a large  square 
chamber,  entirely  surrounded  by  niches  similar  to  those  of  which 
we  have  spoken.  In  the  midst  of  this  chamber  were  four  stones, 
which  had  formerly  served  as  an  altar,  as  was  evident  from  the 
cross  which  still  surmounted  them.  A lamp,  placed  at  the  base  of 
a pillar,  lighted  up  with  its  pale  and  flickering  flame  the  singular 
scene  which  presented  itself  to  the  eyes  of  the  two  visitors  con- 
cealed in  the  shadow.  A man  was  seated  with  his  elbow  leaning 
on  the  column,  and  was  reading  with  his  back  turned  to  the  ar- 
cades, through  the  openings  of  which  the  new-comers  contem- 
plated him.  This  was  the  chief  of  the  band,  Luigi  Vampa. 
Around  him,  and  in  groups,  according  to  their  fancy,  lying  in  their 
mantles,  or  with  their  backs  against  a kind  of  stone  bench,  which 
went  all  round  the  Columbarium,  were  to  be  seen  twenty  brigands 
or  more,  each  having  his  carbine  within  reach.  At  the  bottom, 
silent,  scarcely  visible,  and  like  a shadow,  was  a sentinel,  who  was 
walking  up  and  down  before  a kind  of  opening,  which  was 
only  distinguishable  because  in  that  spot  the  darkness  seemed 
thicker.  When  the  count  thought  Franz  had  gazed  sufficiently  on 
this  picturesque  tableau,  he  raised  his  finger  to  his  lips,  to  warn 
him  to  be  silent,  and,  ascending  the  three  steps  which  led  to  the 
corridor  of  the  Columbarium,  entered  the  chamber  by  the  centre 
arcade,  and  advanced  towards  Vampa  who  was  so  intent  on  the 
book  before  him  that  he  did  not  hear  the  noise  of  his  footsteps. 

u Who  goes  there  ? ” cried  the  sentinel,  less  occupied,  and  who 
saw  by  the  lamp’s  light  a shadow  which  approached  his  chief.  At 
this  sound,  Vampa  rose  quickly,  drawing  at  the  same  moment  a 
pistol  from  his  girdle.  In  a moment  all  the  bandits  were  on  their 
feet,  and  twenty  carbines  were  levelled  at  the  count  “Well/* 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


169 

saitf  he,  in  a voice  perfectly  calm,  and  no  muscle  of  his  counte- 
nance disturbed, “ well,  my  dear  Vampa,  it  appears”  me  that  you 

receive  a friend  with  a great  deal  of  ceremony!” “Ground 

arms  i ’’  exclaimed  the  chief,  with  an  imperative  sign  of  the  hand, 
whilsi  with  the  other  he  took  off  his  hat  respectfully  ; then,  turning 
to  the  singular  personage  who  had  caused  this  scene,  he  said, 
“Your  pardon  my  lord,  but  I was  so  far  from  expecting  the  honor 
of  a visit,  that  I did  not  really  recognize  you.” 

“Was  it  not  agreed,”  asked  the  count,  “that  not  only  my 
person,  but  also  that  of  my  friends,  should  be  respected  by  you  ? ” 

“And  how  have  I broken  that  treaty,  your  excellency  ? ” — ~— 
41  You  have  this  evening  carried  off  and  conveyed  hither  Viscount 
Morcerf.  Well,”  continued  the  count,  in  a tone  that  made  Franz 
shudder,  “ this  young  gentleman  is  one  of  my  friends — lodges  in 
the  same  hotel  as  myself— has  been  up  and  down  the  Corso  for 
eight  hours  in  my  private  carriage,  and  yet,  I repeat  to  you,  you 
have  carried  him  off,  and  conveyed  him  hither,  and,”  added  the 
count,  taking  the  letter  from  his  pocket,  “ you  have  seta  ransom 
on  him,  as  if  he  were  an  indifferent  person.” 

“ Why  did  you  not  tell  me  all  this — you?”  inquired  the  brigand 
chief,  turning  towards  his  men,  who  all  retreated  before  his  look. 
“ Why  have  you  exposed  me  thus  to  fail  in  my  word  towards  a 
gentleman  like  the  count,  who  has  all  our  lives  in  his  hands  ? By 
heavens ! if  I thought  one  of  you  knew  that  the  young  gentleman 
was  the  friend  of  his  excellency,  I would  blow  his  brains  out  with 
my  own  hand  ! ” 

“Well,”  said  the  count,  turning  towards  Franz,  “ I told  you 
there  was  some  mistake  in  this.” 

“ Are  you  not  alone  ? " asked  Vampa,  with  uneasiness. 

“ I am  with  the  person  to  whom  this  letter  was  addressed,  and 
to  whom  I desire  to  prove  that  Luigi  Vampa  was  a man  of  his 
word. — Come,  your  excellency,  here  is  Luigi  Vampa,  who  will 
himself  express  to  you  his  deep  regret  at  the  mistake  he  has  com- 
mitted.” 

Franz  approached,  the  chief  advancing  several  steps  to  meet 
him. 

“ Welcome  amongst  us,  your  excellency/1  he  said  to  him  ; “ you 
heard  what  the  count  just  said,  and  also  my  reply  ; let  me  add  that 
I would  not  for  the  four  thousand  piastres  at  which  I had  fixed 

your  friend’s  ransom,  that  this  had  happened.” “ But,”  said 

Franz,  looking  round  him  uneasily,  “ where  is  the  viscount  ? — I do 
not  see  him.” 

“Nothing  has  happened  to  him,  I hope?”  said  the  count, 
frowningly. 

“ The  prisoner  is  there,”  replied  Vampa,  pointing  to  the  hollow 
•pace  in  front  of  which  the  bandit  was  on  guard,  “ and  I will  go 
myself  and  tell  him  he  is  free.  The  chief  went  toward  the  place 
he  had  pointed  out  as  Albert’s  prison,  and  Franz  and  the  count 


THE  CO  'JNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


170 

followed  him.  44  What  is  the  prisoner  doing  ? ” inquired  Vampa 
of  the  sentinel. 

“Captain,”  replied  the  sentry,  “I  do  not  know,  for  the  last 
hour  I have  not  heard  him  stir.” 

44  Come  in,  your  excellency,'*  said  Vampa.  The  count  and 
Franz  ascended  seven  or  eight  steps  after  the  chief,  who  drew 
back  a bolt,  and  opened  a door.  Then,  by  the  gleam  of  a lamp, 
similar  to  that  which  lighted  the  Columbarium,  Albert  was  to  be 
seen  wrapped  up  in  a cloak  which  one  of  the  bandits  had  lent  him, 
lying  in  a corner  in  profound  slumber.  4 4 Come  ! ” said  the  count, 
smiling  with  his  own  peculiar  smile,  44  not  so  bad  for  a man  who  is 
to  be  shot  at  seven  o’clock  to-morrow  morning ! ” Vampa  looked 
at  Albert  with  a kind  admiration  ; he  was  not  insensible  to  such  a 
proof  of  courage. 

41  You  are  right,”  he  said  ; 44  this  must  be  one  of  your  friends.” 
Then,  going  to  Albert,  he  touched  him  on  the  shoulder,  saying — 
44  Will  your  excellency  please  to  awaken  ? ” Albert  stretched  out 
his  arms,  rubbed  his  eyelids,  and  opened  his  eyes.  44  Ah  ! ah ! ” 
said  he, 44  is  it  you,  captain  ? You  should  have  allowed  me  to  have 
slept.  I had  such  a delightful  dream  : I was  dancing  at  Torlonia’s 
with  the  Countess.”  Then  he  drew  from  his  pocket  his  watch, 
which  he  had  preserved,  that  he  might  see  how  time  sped. 

44  Half-past  one  only,”  said  he.  44  Why  the  devil  do  you  rouse 
me  at  this  hour?  ” 

44  To  tell  you  that  you  are  free,  your  excellency.” 

44  My  dear  fellow,”  replied  Albert,  with  perfect  ease  of  mind, 
“remember,  for  the  future,  Napoleon’s  maxim,  4 Never  awaken 
me  but  for  bad  news  ; ’ if  you  had  let  me  sleep  on,  I should  have 
finished  my  galop,  and  have  been  grateful  to  you  all  my  life.  So, 
then,  they  have  paid  my  ransom  ? ” 

44  No,  your  excellency  ! A person  to  whom  I can  refuse  nothing 
has  come  to  demand  you.” 

44  Really  ! then  that  person  is  a most  amiable  person.”  Albert 
looked  round,  and  perceived  Franz.  44  What!”  said  he,  44  is 
it  you,  my  dear  Franz,  whose  devotion  and  friendship  are  thus 
displayed?  ” 

44  No,  not  I,”  replied  Franz,  44  but  our  neighbor,  the  Count  of 
Monte-Cristo.” 

44  Ah!  the  count,”  said  Albert  gaily,  and  arranging  his  cravat 
and  wristbands,  44  you  are  really  most  kind,  and  I hope  you  will 
consider  me  as  your  eternally  obliged,  in  the  first  place  for  the 
carriage,  and  in  the  next  for  this  ! ” and  he  put  out  his  hand  to  the 
count,  who  shuddered  as  he  gave  his  own,  but  who  nevertheless 
did  give  it.  The  bandit  gazed  on  this  scene  with  amazement  ; he 
was  evidently  accustomed  to  see  his  prisoners  tremble  before  him, 
and  yet  here  was  one  whose  gay  temperament  was  not  for  a 
moment  altered;  as  for  Franz,  he  was  enchanted  at  the  way  in 
which  Albert  had  sustained  the  national  honor  in  the  presence  of 


THE  COUNT  Of  MONTE  CRISTO. 


171 

foe  bandit.  “ My  dear  Albert,”  he  said,  “ if  you  will  make  haste, 
ve  shall  yet  have  time  to  finish  the  night  at  Torlonia’s.  You  may 
:onclude  your  interrupted  galop,  so  that  you  will  owe  no  ill-will  to 
Signor  Luigi,  who  has,  indeed,  throughout  this  whole  affair  acted 

-ike  a gentleman.” “ You  are  decidedly  right,  and  we  may 

reach  the  Palazzo  by  two  o’clock.  Signor  Luigi,”  continued 
Albert,  “is  there  any  formality  to  fulfil  before  1 take  leave  of  your 
excellency  ? ” 

" None,  sir,”  replied  the  bandit,  “ you  are  as  free  as  air.” 

“ Well,  then,  a happy  and  merry  life  to  you.  Come,  gentle- 
men, come.” 

And  Albert,  followed  by  Franz  and  the  count,  descended  the 
itaircase/ crossed  the  square  chamber,  where  stood  all  the  bandits, 
hat  in  hand.  “ Peppino*”  said  the  brigand  chief,  “ give  me  the 
torch.” 

“ What  are  you  going  to  do  then?  ” inquired  the  count. 

“ I will  show  you  the  way  back  myself,”  said  the  captain. 

They  advanced  to  the  plain.  “Ah!  your  pardon!”  said 
Albert,  turning  round;  “will  you  allow  me,  captain  ? ” And  he 
lighted  his  cigar  at  Vampa’s  torch.  ••  Now,  Count,”  he  said,  “ let 
us  on  with  all  the  speed  we  may.  I am  enormously  anxious  to 
finish  my  night  at  the  Duke  of  Bracciano  s.”  They  found  the 
carriage  where  they  had  left  it.  The  count  said  a word  in  Arabic 
to  Ali,  and  the  horses  went  off  at  great  speed.  It  was  just  two 
o’clock  by  Albert’s  watch  when  the  two  friends  entered  into  the 
dancing-room.  Their  return  was  quite  an  event,  but  as  they  entered 
together,  all  uneasiness  on  Albert’s  account  ceased  instantly. 
44  Madame,”  said  the  Viscount  Morcerf,  advancing  towards  the 
countess,  “ yesterday  you  were  so  condescending  as  to  promise 
rie  a galop  ; I am  rather  late  in  claiming  this  gracious  promise, 
but  here  is  my  friend,  whose  character  for  veracity  you  well 
know,  and  he  will  assure  you  the  delay  arose  from  no  fault  of 
mine.  ’ And  as  at  this  moment  the  music  gave  the  warning  for 
the  waltz,  Albert  put  his  arm  round  the  waist  of  the  countess,  and 
disappeared  with  her  in  the  whirl  of  dancers.  In  the  meanwhile 
Franz  was  considering  the  singular  shudder  that  had  pervaded  the 
count  of  Monte-Cristo’s  frame  at  the  moment  when  he  had  been, 
in  some  sort,  forced  to  give  his  hand  to  Albert. 

Albert’s  first  words  to  his  friend,  on  the  following  morning,  con- 
tained a request  that  he  would  accompany  him  to  visit  the  count ; 
true,  he  had  warmly  and  energetically  thanked  him  the  previous 
evening  ; but  services  such  as  he  had  rendered  could  never  be  too 
often  acknowledged.  Franz,  who  seemed  attracted  by  some  in- 
visible influence  towards  the  count,  in  which  terror  was  strangely 
mingled,  felt  an  extreme  reluctance  to  permit  his  friend  to  be  ex- 
posed alone  to  the  singular  fascination  the  mysterious  count  seemed 
to  exercise  over  him,  and  therefore  made  no  objection  to  Albert's 
request,  but  at  once  accompanied  him  to  the  desired  spot,  a# 


172 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


after  a short  delay,  the  count  joined  them  in  the  saloon.  44 M.  le 
Comte,”  said  Albert,  advancing  to  meet  him,  44  permit  me  to  repeat 
the  poor  thanks  I offered  last  night,  and  to  ask  you  whether,  in 
my  own  person,  my  family,  or  connections,  I can  in  any  way  serve 
you  ? My  father,  the  Comte  de  Morcerf,  although  of  Spanish, 
origin,  possesses  considerable  influence,  both  at  the  court  of 
France  and  Madrid,  and  I unhesitatingly  place  the  best  services 

of  myself,  and  all  to  whom  my  life  is  dear,  at  your  disposal.” 

“ M.  de  Morcerf,”  replied  the  count,  44  your  offer,  far  from  sur- 
prising me,  is  precisely  what  I expected  from  you,  and  I accept  it 
in  the  same  spirit  of  hearty  sincerity  with  which  it  is  made  ; — nay, 
I will  go  still  further,  and  say  that  I had  previously  made  up  my 
mind  to  ask  a great  favor  at  your  hands.” — 44  Oh,  pray  name  it.” 

41 1 am  wholly  a stranger  to  Pari-s — it  is  a city  I have  never  yet 
seen ; but  I have  to  ask  you,  my  dear  M.  de  Morcerf”  (these  words 
were  accompanied  by  a most  peculiar  smile),  “ whether  you  un- 
dertake, upon  my  arrival  in  France,  to  open  to  me  the  doors  of 
that  fashionable  world  of  which  I know  no  more  than  a Huron  or 
native  of  Cochin-China?” 

41  Oh,  that  I do,  and  with  infinite  pleasure  ? ” answered  Albert; 
44*and  so  much  the  more  readily  as  a letter  received  this  morning 
from  my  father  summons  me  to  Paris,  in  consequence  of  a treaty 
of  marriage  (my  dear  Franz,  do  not  smile,  I beg  of  you)  with  a 
family  of  high  standing,  and  connected  with  the  very  elite  of  Pari- 
sian society.” 

44  Connected  by  marriage,  you  mean,”  said  Franz,  laughingly, 

44  Well,  nevermind  how  it  is,”  answered  Albert,  “it  comes  to 
the  same  thing  in  the  end.  Perhaps  by  the  time  you  return  to 
Paris,  I shall  be  quite  a sober,  staid  father  of  a family  ! When 
do  you  propose  going  thither  ? ” 

44  Have  you  made  up  your  mind  when  you  shall  be  there  your- 
self?” 

44  Certainly  I have  ; in  a fortnight  or  three  weeks*  time  : that  is 
to  say,  as  fast  as  I can  get  there  ! ” 

44  Nay,*’  said  the  count;  44 1 will  give  you  three  months  ere  I 
join  you  ; you  see  I make  an  ample  allowance  for  all  delays  and 
difficulties.” 

44  And  in  three  months*  time,”  said  Albert,  44  you  will  be  at  my 
house?  ” 

44  Shall  we  make  a positive  appointment  for  a particular  day  and 
hour?”  inquired  the  count ; 44  only  let  me  warn  you  that  I am  pro- 
verbial for  my  punctilious  exactitude  in  keeping  my  engagements.” 

44  The  very  thing  ! ” exclaimed  Albert ; 44  yes,  by  all  means,  let 
us  have  this  rendezvous  duly  drawn  up  and  attested.” 

44  So  be  it,  then,”  replied  the  count,  and  extending  his  hand  to- 
wards an  almanac,  suspended  near  the  chimney-piece,  he  said, 
41  To-day  is  the  2ist  of  February  ; ” and  drawing  out  his  watch, 
added,  44  it  is  exactly  half-past  ten  o’clock.  Now  promise  me  to 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


l&member  this,  and  expect  me  the  21st  of  May  at  the  same  hour 
in  the  forenoon/* 

11  Capital ! M exclaimed  Albert : 44  and  you  shall  find  everything 
and  everybody  ready  to  receive  you/* 

“ Well,  since  we  must  part/*  said  the  count,  holding  out  a hand 
to  each  of  the  young  men,  “ allow  me  to  wish  you  both  a safe  and 
pleasant  journey.”  It  was  the  first  time  the  haad  of  Franz  had 
come  in  contact  with  that  of  the  mysterious  individual  before  him, 
and  unconsciously  he  shuddered  at  its  touch,  for  it  felt  cold  and 
icy  as  that  of  a corpse. 

The  young  men  then  rose,  and,  courteously  bowing  to  their  sin- 
gular acquaintance,  quitted  the  room.  “What  is  the  matter?” 
asked  Albert  of  Franz,  when  they  had  returned  to  their  own  apart- 
ments ; “ you  seem  more  than  commonly  thoughtful.” — “I  will 
confess  to  you,  Albert,”  replied  Franz,  ••  that  I am  deeply  puzzled 
to  unravel  thf  real  career  of  this  strange  count  ; and  the  appoint- 
ment you  hav®  made  to  meet  him  in  Paris  fills  me  with  a thousand 
apprehensions  ** 

“ Then,  listen  to  me.**  Franz  then  related  to  his  friend  the  story 
of  Monte-Cristf\  Albert  listened  with  the  most  profound  attention. 
“ Well,”  said  1**,  when  Franz  had  concluded,  " what  do  you  find 
to  object  to  in  ad  you  have  related  ? The  count  is  fond  of  travel- 
ling, and,  being  rich,  possesses  a vessel  of  his  own.  Now,  byway 
of  having  a resting-place  during  his  excursions,  avoiding  the 
Wretched  cookery  which  has  been  trying  its  best  to  poison  me  dur- 
ing the  last  four  months,  while  you  have  manfully  resisted  its  effects 
for  as  many  year!’,  and  obtaining  a bed  on  which  it  is  impossible  to 
slumber,  Monte-Cristo  has  furnished  for  himself  a temporary  abode 
where  you  first  found  him  ; but,  to  prevent  the  possibility  of  the 
Tuscan  government  taking  a fancy  to  his  enchanted  palace,  and 
thereby  depriving  him  of  the  advantages  naturally  expected  from 
<so  large  an  outlay  of  capital,  he  has  wisely  enough  purchased  the 
island,  and  assumed  the  title  of  its  count/’  “ Well,”  said  Franz, 
with  a sigh,  “do  as  you  please,  my  dear  viscount,  for  your  argu- 
ments are  beyond  my  powers  of  refutation.  Still,  in  spite  of  all, 
you  must  admit  that  this  count  of  Monte-Cristo  is  a most  singular 
personage.” — t4  He  is  a philanthropist,”  answered  the  other  ; “ and 
no  doubt  his  motive  in  visiting  Paris  is  to  compete  for  the  Monthyon 
prize,  given  in  the  interests  of  virtue  and  humanity.  If  my  vote 
and  interest  can  obtain  it  for  him,  I will  readily  give  him  the  one 
and  promise  the  other.  And  now,  my  dear  Franz,  let  us  talk  of 
something  else.  Come,  shall  we  take  our  luncheon,  and  then  pay 
a last  visit  to  St.  Peter’s?  ” Franz  silently  assented  ; and  the  fol- 
lowing afternoon,  at  half-past  five  o’clock,  the  young  men  parted, 
Albert  de  Morcerf  to  return  to  Paris,  and  Franz  d’Epinay  to  pass 
a fortnight  at  Venice, 


174 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  GUESTS. 

In  the  house  in  Helder  street,  where  Albert  had  invited  the  count 
of  Monte-Cristo,  everything  was  being  prepared  on  the  morning  of 
the  2 1 st  of  May  to  fulfil  the  engagement.  Morcerf  inhabited  a 
summer  house  situated  at  the  corner  of  a large  court,  and  directly 
opposite  another  building,  the  servants’  apartments.  Two  win- 
dows only  of  the  pavilion  faced  the  street ; three  other  windows 
looked  into  the  court,  and  two  at  the  back  into  the  garden.  Be- 
tween the  court  and  the  garden,  built  in  the  heavy  style  of  the  im- 
perial architecture,  was  the  large  and  fashionable  dwelling  of  the 
Count  and  Countess  Morcerf.  A high  wall  surrounded  the  whole 
of  the  hotel,  surmounted  at  intervals  by  vases  filled  with  flowers, 
and  broken  in  the  centre  by  a large  gate  of  gilt  iron,  which  served 
as  the  carriage  entrance.  A small  door,  close  to  the  lodge  of  the 
concierge,  gave  ingress  and  egress  to  the  servants  and  masters 
when  they  were  on  foot. 

It  was  easy  to  discover  that  the  delicate  care  of  a mother,  un- 
willing to  part  from  her  son,  and  yet  aware  he  required  the  full 
exercise  of  his  liberty,  had  chosen  this  habitation  for  Albert.  On 
the  other  hand  was  visible  the  intelligent  independence  of  youth, 
enchanted  with  the  free  and  idle  life  of  a young  man.  On  the 
first  floor  were  the  same  rooms,  with  the  addition  of  a third,  formed 
out  of  the  ante-chamber : these  three  rooms  were  a salon,  a 
boudoir,  and  a bedroom.  The  salon  down-stairs  was  only  an  Al- 
gerian divan,  for  the  use  of  smokers.  The  boudoir  up-stairs  com- 
municated with  the  bedchamber  by  an  invisible  door  on  the  stair- 
case ; it  was  evident  every  precaution  had  been  taken.  Above 
this  floor  was  a large  study,  which  had  been  increased  in  size  by 
pulling  down  the  partitions  ; a pandemonium,  in  which  the  artist 
and  the  dandy  strove  for  pre-eminence.  On  the  walls,  over  the 
doors  on  the  ceiling,  were  swords,  daggers,  Malay  creeses,  maces, 
battle-axes,  suits  of  armour,  gilded,  damasked,  and  inlaid,  dried 
plants,  minerals,  and  stuffed  birds,  opening  their  flame-colored 
wings  as  if  for  flight,  and  their  beaks  that  never  close.  This  was 
the  favorite  sitting-room  of  Albert. 

However,  the  morning  of  the  appointment,  the  young  man  had 
established  himself  in  the  small  parlor  down-stairs.  There,  on  a 
table,  surrounded  at  some  distance  by  a large  and  luxurious  divan, 
every  species  of  tobacco  known,  was  exposed  in  those  pots  of 
crackled  earthenware  of  which  the  Dutch  are  so  fond ; beside 
them,  in  boxes  of  fragrant  wood,  were  ranged,  according  to  th^irr 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


175 

size  and  quality,  pueros,  regalias,  havannas,  and  manillas  ; and, 
in  an  open  cabinet,  a collection  of  German  pipes,  of  chibooques, 
with  their  amber  mouth-pieces  ornamented  with  coral,  and  of 
narguillahs,  with  their  long  tubes  of  morocco,  awaited  the  caprice 
or  the  sympathy  of  the  smokers.  Albert  had  himself  presided  at 
the  arrangement,  or,  rather,  the  symmetrical  derangement  which, 
after  coffee,  the  guests  at  a breakfast  of  modern  days  love  to  con- 
template through  the  vapor  that  escapes  from  their  mouth,  and 
ascends  in  long  and  fanciful  wreaths  to  the  ceiling.  At  a quarter 
to  ten,  a valet  entered  ; he  composed  with  a little  groom  named 
John,  and  who  only  spoke  English,  all  Albert’s  establishment,  al- 
though the  cook  of  the  hotel  was  always  at  his  service,  and  on 
great  occasions  the  count’s  chasseur  also.  This  valet,  whose  name 
was  Germain,  and  who  enjoyed  the  entire  confidence  of  his  young 
master,  held  in  one  hand  a number  of  papers,  and  in  the  other  a 
packet  of  letters,  which  he  gave  to  Albert.  Albert  glanced  care- 
lessly at  the  different  missives,  selected  two  written  in  a small  and 
delicate  hand,  and  inclosed  in  scented  envelopes,  opened  them, 
and  perused  their  contents  with  some  attention. 

Albert  threw  himself  on  the  divan,  tore  off  the  cover  of  two  or 
three  of  the  papers,  looked  at  the  playbills,  made  a face  at  per- 
ceiving they  played  an  opera,  and  not  a ballet ; hunted  vainly 
amongst  the  advertisements  for  a new  tooth-powder  of  which  he 
had  heard,  and  threw  down,  one  after  the  other,  the  three  leading 
papers  of  Paris,  muttering,  “These  papers  become  more  and  more 
stupid  every  day.”  A moment  after,  a carriage  stopped  before 
the  door,  and  the  servant  announced  M.  Lucien  Debray.  A tall 
young  man,  with  light  hair,  clear  grey  eyes,  and  thin  and  com- 
pressed lips,  dressed  in  a blue  coat  with  buttons  of  gold,  beauti- 
fully carved,  a white  neckcloth,  and  a tortoiseshell  eye-glass,  sus- 
pended by  a silken  thread,  and  which,  by  an  effort  of  the  nerves, 
he  fixed  in  his  eye,  entered,  with  a half-official  air,  without  smiling 
or  speaking.  “Good-morning,  Lucien!  good-morning ! ” said 
Albert ; " your  punctuality  really  alarms  me.  What  do  I say  ? 
punctuality  ! You,  whom  I expected  last,  you  arrive  at  five  min- 
utes to  ten,  when  the  time  fixed  was  half-past?  Have  ministers 
resigned?” — “No,  my  dear  fellow,”  returned  the  young  man, 
seating  himself  on  the  divan  ; “ reassure  yourself ; we  are  tottering 
always,  but  we  never  fall ; and  I begin  to  believe  that  we  shall 
pass  into  a state  of  innobility,  and  then  the  affairs  of  the  Peninsula 
will  completely  consolidate  us.” 

“Ah,  true  ! you  drive  Don  Carlos  out  of  Spain.” — *'  No,  no,  my 
dear  fellow,  do  not  confound  our  plans.  We  take  him  to  the 
other  side  of  French  frontier,  and  offer  him  hospitality  at  Bourges. 
All  Paris  knew  it  yesterday,  and  the  day  before  it  had  already 
transpired  on  the  Bourse,  and  M.  Danglars  (I  do  not  know  by 
what  means  that  man  contrives  to  obtain  intelligence  as  soon  as  we 
do)  made  a million.'* 


ij6 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


“ I passed  the  night  writing  five-and-twenty  despatches.  I re* 
turned  home  at  daybreak,  and  strove  to  sleep  ; but  my  head 
ached,  and  I got  up  to  have  a ride  for  an  hour.  Dullness  and 
hunger  attacked  me  at  once, — two  enemies  who  rarely  accompany 
each  other,  and  who  are  yet  leagued  against  me.  I then  recol- 
lected you  gave  a breakfast  this  morning,  and  here  I am.  I am 
hungry,  feed  me  ; I am  bored,  amuse  me.” 

“ It  is  my  duty  as  your  host,”  returned  Albert,  ringing  the  bell, 
whilst  Lucien  turned  over,  with  his  gold-mounted  cane,  the  papers 
that  lay  on  the  table.  “ Germain,  a glass  of  sherry  and  a biscuit. 
In  the  meantime,  my  dear  Lucien,  here  are  cigars — contraband, 
of  course — try  them,  and  persuade  the  minister  to  sell  us  such  in- 
stead of  poisoning  us  with  cabbage-leaves.” 

**  Really,  my  dear  count,”  replied  Lucien,  lighting  a manilla  at 
a rose-colored  taper  that  burnt  in  a stand  beautifully  enamelled — 
“how  happy  you  are  to  have  nothing  to  do:  you  do  not  know 
your  own  good  fortune  ! ” 

“ And  what  would  you  do,  my  dear  diplomatist,”  replied  Mo^. 
cerf,  with  a slight  degree  of  irony  in  his  voice,  “ if  you  did  noth- 
ing ? What!  can  you  not  amuse  yourself?  Well,  I will  amuse 
you.” “ How  ? ” “ By  introducing  to  you  a new  acquaint- 

ance.” 

“ A man  or  a woman  ? ” 

“ A man.” 

“ I know  so  many  already.” 

“ But  you  do  not  know  this  man.” 

“ Where  does  he  come  from — the  end  of  the  world?” 

“ Farther  still,  perhaps.” 

“The  devil ! I hope  he  does  not  bring  our  breakfast  with  him.* 

“ Oh,  no  ; our  breakfast  comes  from  my  father’s  kitchen.  Are 
you  hungry  ? ” 

“ Humiliating  as  such  a confession  is,  I am.  But  I dined  at 
Villefort’s,  and  lawyers  always  give  you  very  bad  dinners.  You 
would  think  they  felt  some  remorse  ; did  you  ever  remark  that?  ” 
“Ah!  depreciate  other  persons’  dinners;  you  ministers  give 
such  splendid  ones.” 

“ Yes  ; but  we  do  not  invite  people  of  fasjiion.  If  we  were  not 
forced  to  entertain  a parcel  of  country  boobies  because  they  think 
and  vote  with  us,  we  should  never  dream  of  dining  at  home,  I as- 
sure you.” 

“ But  I hear  Beauchamp  in  the  next  room  ; you  can  dispute  to- 
gether, and  that  will  pass  away  the  time.” 

“ M.  Beauchamp,”  announced  the  servant  “Enter,  enter,” 
said  Albert,  rising  and  advancing  to  meet  the  young  man.  “ Here 
is  Debray,  who  detests  you  without  reading  you,  so  he  says.” 

“ He  is  quite  right,”  returned  Beauchamp  ; “ for  I criticize  him 
without  knowing  what  he  does.” 

“ Come,  come  ! that  is  not  bad  ! ” said  Lucien.  “ Why  do  you 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


1 77 


ft&fc  join  Our  party,  my  dear  Beauchamp  ? With  your  talents  you 
would  make  your  fortune  in  three  or  four  years." 

.“.I  only  await  one  thing  before  following  your  advice  ; that  is,  a 
minister  who  will  hold  office  for  six  months.  My  dear  Albert,  one 
word  ; for  I must  get  poor  Lucien  a respite.  Do  we  breakfast  or 
dine  . I must  go  to  the  Chamber,  for  our  life  is  not  an  idle  one." 

“ You  only  breakfast : I await  two  persons  : and  the  instant  they 
arrive  we  shall  sit  down  to  table." 

thought  *"  S°  * * w*d  stay  » I must  do  something  to  distract  my 

“ You  are  like  Debray  ; and  yet  it  seems  to  me  that  when  the 
minister  is  out  of  spirits,  the  opposition  ought  to  be  joyous  " 

“ Ah,  you  do  not  know  with  what  I am  threatened.  I shall  hear 
this  morning  M.  Danglars  make  a speech  at  the  Chamber  of  Dep- 
uties ; and  at  his  wife’s  this  evening  I shall  hear  the  tragedy  of  a 
peer  of  France.  The  devil  take  the  constitutional  government  I 

choosTtTat'?  " had  °Ur  Ch°1Ce'  aS  thCy  Say'  at  leaSt'  h°W  COuld  we 
“ 1 understand  ; you  must  lay  in  a stock  of  hilarity." 

“ Do  not  run  down  M.  Danglars’  speeches,"  said  Debray  : “ he 
votes  for  you,  for  he  belongs  to  the  opposition  " 

“ RfZ  The  W0KSt  0f  a11  •;  1 \m  waitino  until  you  send  him  to 
speak  at  the  Luxembourg,  to  laugh  at  my  ease  " 

‘•My  dear  friend,”  said  Albert  to  Beauchamp,  “it  is  plain  the 
affairs  of  Spain  are  settled,  for  you  are  most  desperately  out  of  hu- 
mor this  morning.  Recollect  that  Parisian  gossip  has  spoken  of  a 
marriage  between  myself  and  Mile.  Eugenie  Danglars  ; I cannot 
m conscience,  therefore,  let  you  run  down  the  speeches  of  a man 

millions 1 ”nC  y ^ t0  me’  ' Y°U  know  1 S‘ve  ™y  daughter  two 

“Ah  this  marriage  will  never  take  place,”  said  Beauchamp. 
The  king  has  made  him  a baron,  and  can  make  him  a peer  but 
he  cannot  make  him  a gentleman  ; and  the  Count  de  Morcerfis 
too  aris.ociatic  to  consent,  for  the  paltry  sum  of  eighty  thousand 
a march io ne  ™e,s,a  tance'  The  Viscount  de  Morcerf  can  only  wed 

" uu-1  *T°  mill.ioi?s  is  a n'ce  little  sum,”  replied  Morcerf. 

It  is  the  capital  of  a theatre,  or  a local  railroad  ” 

marrvTr  Tn  What  He  Sa>;S’  M,orcerf-”  said  Debray,  “do  you 
marry  her  You  marry  a ticket  of  a money-bag,  it  is  true  ; well 

"Now,  then,  to  breakfast,”  said  Beauchamp  - “for  if  I re. 
member,  you  told  me  you  only  expected  two  persons  Albert  ” 

M„rr„.  uVf.  Bn‘t  be&Tito  h"k  fa. 

12 


i;8 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


ished,  Chateau-Renaud,  a handsome  young  man  of  thirty,  a thor- 
ough  gentleman  took  Albert’s  hand. 

“ My  dear  Albert,”  said  he,  “ let  me  introduce  to  you  M.  Maxi- 
milian Morrel,  captain  of  Spahis,  my  friend  ; and  what  is  more — ’ 
however  the  man  speaks  for  himself — my  preserver.  Salute  my 
hero,  viscount.”  And  he  stepped  on  one  side,  exhibiting  the  large 
and  open  brow,  the  piercing  eyes,  and  black  moustache  of  the  fine 
and  noble  young  man  whom  our  readers  have  already  seen  at 
Marseilles,  under  circumstances  sufficiently  dramatic  not  to  be  for- 
gotten. A rich  uniform,  half  French,  half  Oriental,  set  off  his 
broad  chest,  decorated  with  the  order  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  and 
his  graceful  and  stalwart  figure.  The  young  officer  bowed  with 
easy  and  elegant  politeness.  “ Monsieur,”  said  Albert,  with  af- 
fectionate courtesy,  “ Count  Chateau-Renaud  knew  how  much 
pleasure  this  introduction  would  give  me  ; you  are  his  friend,  be 
ours  also.” 

“Well  said!”  interrupted  Chateau-Renaud;  “ and  pray  that, 
if  you  should  ever  be  in  a similar  predicament,  he  may  do  as  much 
for  you  as  he  did  for  me.” H What  has  he  done?”  asked  Al- 

bert. 

“ You  all  know  that  I had  the  fancy  of  going  to  Africa.’* 

“It  is  a road  your  ancestors  have  traced  for  you,”  said  Albert, 
gallantly. 

“Yes,  but  I doubt  that  your  object  was  like  theirs — to  rescue  the 
Holy  Sepulchre.” 

“ You  are  quite  right,  Beauchamp,”  observed  the  young  aristo- 
crat. “ It  was  only  to  fight  as  an  amateur.  I cannot  bear  duel- 
ling ever  since  two  seconds,  whom  I had  chosen  to  accommodate 
a quarrel,  forced  me  to  break  the  arm  of  one  of  my  best  friends, 
one  whom  you  all  know — poor  Franz  d’Epinay.” 

“ Ah,  true  ! ” said  Debray,  “ you  did  fight  some  time  ago 
about  what  ? ” 

“The  devil  take  r e,  if  I remember!  ” returned  Chateau-Re- 
naud. “ But  I recollect  perfectly  one  thing  : that,  being  unwilling 
to  let  such  talents  as  mine  sleep,  I wished  to  try  upon  the  Arabs 
new  pistols  given  to  me.  In  consequence  I embarked  for  Oran, 
and  went  from  thence  to  Constantine,  where  I arrived  just  in  time 
to  witness  the  raising  of  the  siege.  I retreated  with  the  rest,  during 
eight-and-forty  hours.  I supported  the  rain  during  the  day  and 
the  cold  during  the  night  tolerably  well,  but  the  third  morning  my 
horse  died  of  cold.  I was  retreating  on  foot,  for  my  horse  was 
dead.  Six  Arabs  came  up,  full  gallop,  to  cut  off  my  head.  I shot 
two  with  my  double-barrelled  gun,  and  two  more  with  my  pistols, 
but  I was  then  disarmed,  and  two  were  still  left ; one  seized  me  by 
the  hair  (that  is  why  I now  wear  it  so  short,  for  no  one  knows 
what  may  happen),  the  other  encircled  my  neck  with  the  yata- 
ghan, when  this  gentleman  whom  you  see  here  charged  them,  shot 
the  one  who  held  me  by  the  hair  with  a pistol,  and  cleft  the  skull 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


179 


of  the  other  with  his  sabre.  He  had  assigned  himself  the  task  of 
saving  the  life  of  a man  that  day  ; chance  caused  that  man  to  be 
myself.” 

“ Yes,”  said  Morrel,  smiling,  “ it  was  the  5th  of  September,  the 
anniversary  of  the  day  on  which  my  father  was  miraculously  pre- 
served ; therefore,  as  far  as  it  lies  in  my  power,  I endeavor  to  cele. 
brate  it  by  some ” 

“ Heroic  action,”  interrupted  Chateau-Renaud.  “ I was  chosen. 
But  this  is  not  all : after  rescuing  me  from  the  sword,  he  rescued 
me  from  the  cold,  not  by  sharing  his  cloak  with  me,  like  St. 
Martin,  but  by  giving  it  me  all ; then  from  hunger  by  sharing  with 
me — guess  what?  ” 

“A  Strasbourg  pie  ? ” asked  Beauchamp. 

“ No,  his  horse  ; of  which  we  each  of  us  ate  a slice  with  a 
hearty  appetite.  It  was  very  hard.” 

“The  horse  ! ” said  Morcerf,  laughing. 

“No,  the  sacrifice,”  returned  Chateau-Renaud.  99  What  time 
do  you  breakfast,  Albert  ? ’ ’ 

“ At  half-past  ten.” 

“ Precisely  ? ” asked  Debray,  taking  out  his  watch.' 

“Oh ! you  will  give  me  five  minutes’  grace,”  replied  Morcerf, 
91  for  I also  expect  a preserver.” 

99  Of  whom? ” 

“ Of  myself,”  cried  Morcerf ; “ do  you  think  I cannot  be  saved 
as  well  as  any  one  else,  and  that  only  Arabs  who  cut  off  heads? 
Our  breakfast  is  a philanthropic  one,  and  we  shall  have  at  table 
— at  least,  I hope  so — two  benefactors  of  humanity.” 

“And  where  does  he  come  from?”  asked  Debray.  “You 
have  already  answered  the  question  once,  but  so  vaguely,  that  I 
venture  to  put  it  a second  time.” 

“Really,”  said  Albert,  “I  do  not  know  ; when  I invited  him 
three  months  ago,  he  was  then  at  Rome,  but  since  that  time,  who 
knows  where  he  may  have  gone  ? " 

“ And  you  think  him  capable  of  being  exact  ? ” demanded  De- 
bray. 

“ I think  him  capable  of  everything.” 

“Well,  with  the  five  minutes’  grace,  we  have  only  ten  left.” 

“ I will  profit  by  them  to  tell  you  something  about  my  guest. 
I was  at  Rome  the  last  Carnival.” 

“ We  know  that,”  said  Beauchamp. 

“Yes,  but  what  you  do  not  know  is  that  I was  carried  off  by 
bandits,  who  conducted  me  to  a most  gloomy  spot,  called  the 
Catacombs  of  Saint  Sebastian.” 

“I  know  it,”  said  Chateau-Renaud;  “I  narrowly  escaped 
catching  a fever  there.” 

“And  I did  more  than  that,”  replied  Morcerf,  “ for  I caught 
one.  I was  informed  I was  a prisoner  until  I paid  the  sum  of 
4,000  Roman  crowns — about  24,000  francs.  Unfortunately,  I had 


i8o 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR/STO. 


not  above  1,500.  I was  at  the  end  of  my  journey  and  of  my 
credit.  I wrote  to  Franz— and  were  he  here  he  would  con. 
firm  every  word — that  if  he  did  not  come  with  the  four 
thousand  crowns  before  six,  at  ten  minutes  past  I should 
have  gone  to  join  the  blessed  saints  and  glorious  martyrs,  in  whose 
company  I had  the  honor  of  being  ; and  Signor  Luigi  Vampa, 
such  was  the  name  of  the  chief  of  these  bandits,  would  have 
scrupulously  kept  his  word.” 

“But  Franz  did  come  with  the  four  thousand  crowns,”  said 
Chateau-Renaud.  “A  d’Epinay  or  Morcerf  has  not  much  dif- 
ficulty in  procuring  them.” 

“No,  he  arrived  accompanied  simply  by  the  guest  I am  going 
to  present  to  you,” 

“Ah!  this  gentleman  is  a Hercules  killing  Cacus,  a Perseus 
freeing  Andromeda!  ” 

“No,  he  is  a man  about  my  own  size,** 

“ Armed  to  the  teeth  ? ” 

“ He  had  not  even  a knitting-needle.” 

“ But  he  paid  your  ransom  ? ” 

“ He  said  two  words  to  the  chief,  and  I was  free.,f 
41  Why,  he  is  a second  Ariosto.” 

41  No,  his  name  is  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo.” 

“ There  is  no  count  of  IVfonte-Cristo,”  said  Debray. 

“I  do  not  think  so,”  added  Chateau-Renaud,  with  the  air  of  a 
man  who  knows  the  whole  of  the  European  nobility  perfectly. 

“ Does  any  one  know  anything  of  a Count  of  Monte-Cristo?” 
“ He  comes  possibly  from  the  Holy  Land,  and  one  of  his  an- 
cestors possessed  Calvary,  as  the  Montemarts  did  the  Dead  Sea.” 
“I  think  I can  assist  your  researches,”  said  Maximilian. 
“ Monte-Cristo  is  a little  island  I have  often  heard  spoken  of  by 
the  old  sailors  my  father  employed — a grain  of  sand  in  the  centre 
of  the  Mediterranean,  an  atom  in  the  infinite.” 

Precisely  ! ” cried  Albert.  “ Well,  he  of  whom  I speak  is  the 
lord  and  master  of  this  grain  of  sand  ; he  has  purchased  the  title 
of  count  somewhere  in  Tuscany.” 

“ He  is  rich,  then?  ” 

“ Have  you  read  the  * Arabian  Nights  * ? ” 

“ What  a question  ! ” 

“Well,  do  you  know  if  the  persons  you  see  there  are  rich  or 
poor,  if  their  sacks  of  wheat  are  not  rubies  of  diamonds  ? They 
'seem  like  poor  fishermen,  and  suddenly  they  open  some  mysterh 
'ous  cavern  filled  with  the  wealth  of  the  Indies.” 

“Go  on!” 

“ My  count  of  Monte-Cristo  is  one  of  those  fishermen.  He  has 
even  a name  taken  from  the  book,  since  he  calls  himself  Sinbad 
the  Sailor,  and  has  a cave  filled  with  gold.*' 

“ And  you  have  seen  this  cavern,  Morcerf?  ” asked  Beauchamp. 
44  No,  but  Franz  has : for  Heaven’s  sake,  not  a word  of  this  be- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


i Si 

.ore  nim.  Franz  went  in  with  his  eyes  blindfolded,  and  was  served 
by  mutes  and  women  to  whom  Cleopatra  was  nothing.  Only  he 
is  not  quite  sure  about  the  women,  for  they  did  not  come  in  until 
a,fter  he  had  taken  some  drug,  so  that  what  he  took  for  women 
Might  have  been  simply  a row  of  statues.” 

The  two  young  men  looked  at  Morcerf  as  if  to  say, — 

“ Are  you  mad,  or  are  you  laughing  at  us?  ” “ And  I also," 

aid  Morrel,  thoughtfully,  “have  heard  something  like  this  from 
an  old  sailor  named  Penelon.” 

“ Ah  ! " cried  Albert,  “it  is  very  lucky  that  M.  Morrel  comes 
to  aid  me  ; you  are  vexed,  are  you  not,  that  he  thus  gives  a clue 
to  the  labyrinth  ? ” 

“My  dear  Albert,”  said  Debray,  “what  you  tell  us  is  so  ex- 
traordinary. Every  one  has  not  black  slaves,  superb  galleys, 
Arabian  horses,  and  Greek  mistresses.” 

“ Have  you  seen  his  Greek  ? ” 

“ I have  both  seen  and  heard  her.  I saw  her  at  the  theatre, 
and  heard  her  one  morning  when  I breakfasted  with  the  count.” 

“ He  eats,  then  ? ” 

“ Ves  ; but  so  little,  it  can  hardly  be  called  eating.’* 

“ He  must  be  a vampire.” 

“Laugh,  if  you  will ; the  Countess  Guiccioli,  who  had  known 
Lord  Ruthven,  declared  the  count  was  a vampire.” 

“ Ah,  capital  1 ” said  Beauchamp.  “ For  a man  not  connected 
with  newspapers,  here  is  the  pendant  to  the  famous  sea-serpent.” 
“ Wild  eyes,  the  iris  of  which  contracts  or  dilates  at  pleasure,” 
*aid  Debray  ; “facial  angle  strongly  developed,  magnificent  fore- 
head, livid  complexion,  black  beard,  sharp  and  white  teeth,  polite- 
ness unexceptionable.” 

“ Just  so,  Lucien,”  returned  Morcerf ; “ you  have  described  him 
feature  for  feature.  Yes,  keen  and  cutting  politeness.  This  man 
has  often  made  me  shudder ! and  one  day  that  we  were  viewing 
an  execution,  I thought  1 should  faint,  more  from  hearing  the 
cold  and  calm  manner  in  which  he  spoke  of  every  description  of 
torture  than  from  the  sight  of  the  executioner  and  the  culprit.” 

Did  he  not  conduct  you  to  the  ruins  of  the  Colosseum  and 
suck  your  blood?  ” asked  Beauchamp. 

**  Or,  after  having  delivered  you,  make  you  sign  a blood-colored 
parchment  surrendering  your  soul  to  him  ? ” — “ Rail  on,  rail  on  at 
your  ease,  gentlemen,”  said  Morcerf,  somewhat  piqued. 

“ Confess  you  have  dreamed  this,  and  let  us  sit  down  to  break- 
fast,” continued  Beauchamp.  But  the  sound  of  the  clock  had 
not  died  away  when  Germain  announced,  “ His  Excellency  the 
Count  of  Monte-Cristo.”  The  involuntary  start  every  one  gave 
proved  how  much  Morcerf  s narrative  had  impressed  them,  and 
Albert  himself  could  not  prevent  sudden  emotion.  He  had  not 
heard  a carriage  stop  in  the  street,  or  steps  in  the  ante-chamber; 
the  door  had  itself  opened  noiselessly.  The  count  appeared, 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  C JUS  TO. 


l8l 

dressed  with  the  greatest  simplicity  ; but  the  most  fastidious  dandy 
could  have  found  nothing  to  cavil  at  in  his  toilette  : every  article, 
of  dress — hat,  coat,  gloves,  and  boots — were  from  the  first  mak- 
ers. He  seemed  scarcely  five-and-thirty.  But  what  struck  every- 
body was  his  extreme  resemblance  to  the  portrait  Debray  had 
drawn.  The  count  advanced,  smiling,  into  the  centre  of  the  room, 
and  approached  Albert,  who  hastened  toward  him,  holding  out  his 
hand. 

“ Punctuality,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  “is  the  politeness  of  kings, 
according  to  one  of  your  sovereigns,  I think  ; but  it  is  not  the  same 
with  travelers.  However,  I hope  you  will  excuse  the  two  or  three 
seconds  I am  behindhand  ; five  hundred  leagues  are  not  to  be  ac- 
complished without  some  trouble,  and  especially  in  France,  where, 
it  seems,  it  is  forbidden  to  beat  the  postilions.’ * 

“ Count,”  replied  Albert,  “ I was,  announcing  your  visit  to  some 
of  my  friends,  whom  I had  invited  in  consequence  of  the  promise 
you  did  me  the  honor  to  make,  and  whom  I now  present  to  you. 
They  are  Count  Chateau-Renaud,  whose  nobility  goes  back  to  the 
twelve  peers,  and  whose  ancestors  had  a place  at  the  Round 
Table  ; M.  Lucien  Debray,  private  secretary  to  the  Internal  De< 
partment ; M.  Beauchamp,  an  editor  of  a paper,  and  the  terror  oi 
the  French  Government,  but  of  whom,  in  spite  of  his  celebrity, 
you  have  not  heard  in  Italy,  since  his  paper  is  prohibited  there  ; 
and  M.  Maximilian  Morrel,  captain  of  Spahis.” 

At  this  name  the  count,  who  had  hitherto  saluted  every  one  with 
courtesy,  but  at  the  same  time  with  coldness  and  formality, 
stepped  a pace  forward,  and  a slight  tinge  of  red  colored  his  pale 
cheeks.  “You  wear  the  uniform  of  the  new  French  conquerors, 
sir,”  said  he  ; “it  is  a handsome  uniform.”  No  one  could  have 
said  what  caused  the  count’s  voice  to  vibrate  so  deeply,  and  what 
made  his  eye  flash,  in  general  so  clear,  lustrous,  and  limpid  when 
he  pleased.  “You  have  never  seen  our  African,  Legion,  Count?  ” 
said  Albert.  “ Never,”  replied  the  count,  who  was  by  this  time 
perfectly  master  of  himself  again. 

“ Well,  beneath  this  uniform  beats  one  of  the  bravest  and  no- 
blest hearts  in  the  whole  army.” 

“Oh,  M.  de  Morcerf!  ” interrupted  Morrel. 

“ Let  me  go  on,  captain  ! And  we  have  just  heard,”  continued 
Albert,  “of  a fresh  action,  and  so  heroic  that,  although  I have 
seen  him  to-day  for  the  first  time,  I request  you  to  allow  me  to  in- 
troduce him  as  my  friend.”  At  these  words  it  was  still  possible  to 
remark  in  Monte-Cristo  that  fixed  gaze,  that  passing  color,  and 
that  slight  trembling  of  the  eyelid,  that  showed  his  emotion.  “ Ah  1 
you  have  a noble  heart,”  said  the  count ; “ so  much  the  better.” 
This  exclamation,  which  corresponded  to  the  count’s  own  thought 
rather  than  to  what  Albert  was  saying,  surprised  everybody,  and 
especially  Morrel,  who  looked  at  Monte-Cristo  with  surprise.  But, 
at  the  same  time,  the  intonation  was  so  soft  that,  however  strange 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 1 83 

the  exclamation  might  seem,  it  was  impossible  to  be  offended  at 

t#" Gentlemen,"'  said  Albert,  “ Germain  informs  me  breakfast  is 
ready.  My  dear  count,  allow  me  to  show  you  the  way.”  They 
passed  silently  into  the  breakfast-room  ; every  one  took  his  place. 
“Gentlemen,’*  said  the  count,  seating  himself,  “permit  me  to 
make  a confession  which  must  form  my  excuse  for  any  blunder  I 
may  commit.  I am  a stranger,  and  to  such  a degree,  that  this  is 
the  first  time  I have  ever  been  at  Paris.  The  French  way  of  liv- 
ing is  utterly  unknown  to  me,  and  up  to  the  present  time  I have 
followed  the  Eastern  customs,  entirely  in  contrast  to  the  Parisian. 
I beg  you,  therefore,  to  excuse  if  you  find  anything  in  me  too 
Turkish,  too  Italian,  or  too  Arabian.  Now,  then,  let  us  break- 
fast.” 

“With  what  an  air  he  says  all  this!”  muttered  Beauchamp; 
••  decidedly  he  is  a great  man.” 

“ A great  man  in  his  country,”  added  Debray. 

**  A great  man  in  every  country,  M.  Debray, M said  Chateau- 
Renaud.  The  count  was,  it  may  be  remembered,  a most  temper- 
ate guest.  Albert  remarked  this,  expressing  his  fears  lest,  at  the 
outset,  the  Parisian  mode  of  life  should  displease  the  traveler  in 
the  most  essential  point.  ‘ ‘ My  dear  count,”  said  he,  “ I fear  one 
thing,  and  that  is,  that  the  fare  of  the  Rue  du  Helder  is  not  so 
much  to  your  taste  as  that  of  the  Place  d’Espagne.  I ought  to 
have  consulted  you  on  the  point,  and  have  had  some  dishes  pre- 
pared expressly.” -“Did  you  know  me  better,”  returned  the 

count,  smiling,  “you  would  not  give  one  thought  of  such  a thing 
for  a traveler  like  myself.  I eat  everywhere,  and  of  everything, 
only  I eat  but  little  ; and  to-day,  that  you  reproach  me  with  my 
want  of  appetite,  is  my  day  of  appetite,  for  I have  not  eaten  since 
yesterday  morning.” 

“ What ! ” cried  all  the  guests,  “ you  have  not  eaten  for  four- 

and-twenty  hours?  ” “No,”  replied  the  count ; “ I was  forced 

to  go  out  of  my  road  to  obtain  some  information  near  Nimes,  so 
that  I was  somewhat  late,  and  therefore  I did  not  choose  to  stop.” 

“And  you  ate  in  your  carriage?”  asked  Morcerf. “No,  I 

slept,  as  I generally  do  when  I am  weary  without  having  the  cour- 
age to  amuse  myself,  or  when  I am  hungry  without  feeling  inclined 
to  eat.” 

“ But  you  can  sleep  when  you  please,  monsieur?  ” said  Morrel. 

“Yes.” 

“ You  have  a receipt  for  it  ? ” 

“An  infallible  one  of  which  I make  no  secret  of  it.  It  is  a 
mixture  of  excellent  opium,  which  I fetched  myself  from  Canton 
in  order  to  have  it  pure,  and  the  best  hasheesh  which  grows  in  the 
east, — formed  into  pills.  Ten  minutes  after  one  is  taken,  the  effect 
is  produced.  Ask  Baron  Franz  d’Epinay  ; I think  he  tasted  them 
one  day,” 


1 84 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


“ Yes,"  replied  Morcerf,  “ he  said  something  about  it  to  me." 

“ But,"  said  Beauchamp,  who,  in  his  capacity  of  journalist,  was 

very  incredulous,  “you  always  carry  tlvs  dr  ig  about  you  ? " 

“ Always.” 

“ Would  it  be  an  indiscretion  to  ask  to  see  those  precious  pills  ? " 

continued  Beauchamp,  hoping  to  take  him  at  a disadvantage. 

*•  No,  monsieur,"  returned  the  count ; and  he  drew  from  his 
pocket  a marvellous  bonbonniere , formed  out  of  a single  emerald, 
and  closed  by  a golden  lid,  which  unscrewed  and  gave  passage  to 
a small  ball  of  a greenish  color,  and  about  the  size  of  a pea.  This 
ball  had  an  acrid  and  penetrating  odor.  There  were  four  or  five 
more  in  the  emerald,  which  would  contain  about  a dozen.  The 
bonbonniere  passed  round  the  table,  but  it  was  more  to  examine  the 
admirable  emerald  than  to  see  the  pills  that  it  passed  from  hand  to 
hand.  “And  is  it  your  cook  who  prepares  these  pills  ? " asked 
Beauchamp. 

“ Oh,  no,  monsieur,"  replied  Monte-Cristo  ; “ I do  not  thus  be- 
tray my  enjoyments  to  the  vulgar.  I am  a tolerable  chemist,  and 
prepare  my  pills  myself." 

“ This  is  a magnificent  emerald,  and  the  largest  I have  ever 
seen,"  said  Chateau-Renaud,  “ although  my  mother  has  some  re- 
markable family  jewels." 

“I  had  three  similar  ones,"  returned  Monte-Cristo.  “ I gave 
one  to  the  Grand,  who  mounted  it  in  his  sabre  ; another  to  our 
holy  father  the  Pope,  who  had  it  set  in  his  tiara,  opposite  to  nearly 
as  large,  though  not  so  fine  a one,  given  by  the  Emperor  Napol- 
eon to  his  predecessor,  Pius  VII.  I kept  the  third  for  myself,  and 
I had  it  hollowed  out,  which  reduced  its  value,  but  rendered  it 
more  commodious  for  the  purpose  I intended  it  for,"  Every  one 
looked  at  Monte-Cristo  with  astonishment ; he  spoke  with  so  much 
simplicity  that  it  was  evident  he  spoke  the  truth,  or  that  he  was 
mad.  However,  the  sight  of  the  emerald  made  them  naturally  in- 
cline to  the  former  belief.  “ And  what  did  these  two  sovereigns 
give  you  in  exchange  for  these  magnificent  presents?"  asked  De- 
bray.  “ The  Grand  Seignior,  the  liberty  of  a woman,"  replied 

the  count ; “ the  Pope,  the  life  of  a man  ; so  that  once  in  my  life 
I have  been  as  powerful  as  if  Heaven  had  made  me  come  into  the 
world  on  the  steps  of  a throne." 

“ And  it  was  Peppino  you  saved,  was  it  not?  " cried  Morcerf; 
“ it  was  for  him  that  you  obtained  pardon  ? ” 

“ Perhaps,"  returned  the  count,  smiling. 

“ Count,  you  have  no  idea  what  pleasure  it  gives  me  to  hear 
you  speak  thus,"  said  Morcerf.  “ f had  announced  you  before- 
hand to  my  friends  as  an  enchanter  of  the  * Arabian  Nights,*  or 
wizard  of  the  Middle  Ages  ; but  the  Parisians  are  so  subtle  in 
paradoxes,  that  they  mistake  for  caprices  of  the  imagination  the 
most  incontestable  truths,  when  these  truths  do  not  form  a part  of 
their  daily  existence.  For  example,  here  is  Debray  who  reads 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 185 


and  Beauchamp  who  prints,  every  day,  * A member  of  the  Jockey 
Club  has  been  stopped  and  robbed  on  the  Boulevard  ; that  four 
persons  have  been  assassinated  at  St.  Germain  ; that  ten,  fifteen, 
or  twenty  thieves,  have  been  arrested,  and  who  yet  contest  the 
existence  of  the  bandits  of  the  Pontine  Marshes.  Tell  them  your- 
self that  I was  taken  by  bandits,  and  that  without  your  generous 
intercession  I should  now  have  been  sleeping  in  the  catacombs  of 
St.  Sebastian,  instead  of  receiving  them  in  my  humble  abode  in 
Helder  Street.” 

44  Ah,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  “ you  promised  me  never  to  mention 

that  circumstance.” “ It  was  not  I who  made  that  promise,” 

cried  Morcerf  ; 44  it  must  have  been  some  one  else  whom  you  have 
rescued  in  the  same  manner,  and  whom  you  have  forgotten. 
Pray  speak  of  it,  for  I know  not,  how  you  contrived  to  inspire  with 
such  respect  the  bandits  of  Rome,  who  have  so  little  respect  for 
anything ; I assure  you,  Franz  and  I were  lost  in  admiration.” 

44  Nothing  more  simple,”  returned  the  count.  44  I had  known 
the  famous  Vampa  for  more  than  ten  years.  When  he  was  quite 
a child,  and  only  a shepherd,  I gave  him,  for  having  shown  me 
the  way  to  a place,  some  pieces  of  gold  ; he,  in  order  to  repay 
me,  gave  me  a poniard,  the  hilt  of  which  he  had  carved  with  his 
own  hand,  and  which  you  may  have  seen  in  my  collection  of  arms. 
In  after  years  whether  he  had  forgotten  this  interchange  of 
presents,  which  ought  to  have  cemented  our  friendship,  or  whether 
he  did  not  recollect  me,  he  sought  to  take  me,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
it  was  I who  captured  him  and  a dozen  of  his  band.  I might  have 
handed  him  over  to  Roman  justice,  which  is  somewhat  expeditious, 
and  which  would  have  been  still  more  so  with  him  ; but  I did 
nothing  of  the  sort — I suffered  him  and  his  band  to  depart.” 

44  With  the  condition  that  they  should  sin  no  more,”  said  Beau- 
champ, laughing.  “ I see  they  kept  their  promise.” 

44  No,”  returned  Monte-Cristo,  “ upon  the  simple  condition  that 
they  should  respect  myself  and  my  friends.  Perhaps  what  I am 
about  to  say  may  seem  strange  to  you,  who  vaunt  humanity  and 
your  duty  to  your  neighbor,  but  I never  seek  to  protect  society  who 
does  not  protect  me,  and  whom  I will  even  say,  in  general,  occu- 
pies itself  about  me  only  to  injure  me  ; and  thus  giving  them  a low 
place  in  my  esteem,  and  preserving  a neutrality  towards  them,  i( 

is  society  and  my  neighbor  who  are  indebted  to  me.” * 

14  Bravo  I ” cried  Chateau-Renaud  ; 44  you  are  the  first  man  I ever 
met  sufficiently  courageous  to  preach  egotism.  Bravo  ! ” 

41  It  is  frank,  at  least,”  said  Morrel.  41  But  I am  sure  that  the 
count  does  not  regret  having  once  deviated  from  the  principles  h$ 
has  so  boldly  avowed.” 

44  How  have  I deviated  from  those  principles,  monsieur?  ” asked 
Monte-Cristo,  who  could  not  help  looking  at  Morrel  with  so  much 
intensity,  that  two  or  three  times  the  young  man  had  been  unable 
to  sustain  the  clear  and  piercing  eye  of  the  count. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


1 86 

••  Why,  it  seems  to  me/*  replied  Morrel,  44  that  in  delivering  M. 
de  Morcerf,  whom  you  did  not  know,  you  did  good  to  your  neigh* 
bor  and  to  society.” — — 44  Of  which  he  is  the  brightest  ornament,” 
said  Beauchamp,  drinking  off  a glass  of  champagne. 

“ Count,”  cried  Morcerf,  “you  are  at  fault:  you,  one  of  tho 
most  formidable  logicians  I know — and  you  must  see  it  clearly 
proved,  that  instead  of  being  an  egotist,  you  are  a philanthropist. 
The  first  day  you  set  foot  in  Paris  you  instinctively  possess  the 
greatest  virtue,  or  rather  the  chief  defect,  of  us  eccentric  Paris- 
ians,— that  is,  you  assume  the  vices  you  have  not,  and  conceal  the 

virtues  you  possess.” “ My  dear  sir,”  returned  Monte-Cristo, 

'•  I do  not  see,  in  all  I have  done,  anything  that  merits,  either  from 
;ou  or  these  gentlemen,  the  pretended  eulogies  I have  received. 
I will  appeal  to  any  of  these  gentlemen,  could  I leave  my  guest  in 
the  hands  of  a hideous  bandit,  as  you  term  him  ? Besides,  you 
know,  I had  the  idea  that  you  could  introduce  me  into  some  of 
the  Paris  salons  when  I came  to  France.  You  might  some  time 
ago  have  looked  upon  this  resolution  as  a vague  project,  but  to-day 
you  see  it  was  a reality,  and  you  must  submit  to  it  under  penalty 
of  breaking  your  word.” 

“ I will  keep  it,”  returned  Morcerf;  41  but  I fear  that  you  will  be 
much  disappointed,  accustomed  as  your  are  to  picturesque  events 
and  fantastic  horizons.  France  is  so  prosaic,  and  Paris  so  civi- 
lized a city,  that  you  will  not  find  in  it  a single  hill  on  which  there 
is  not  a telegraph,  or  a grotto  in  which  the  commissary  of  police 
has  not  put  up  a gas-lamp.  There  is  but  one  service  I can  render 
you,  and  for  that  I place  myself  entirely  at  your  orders  : that  is,  to 
present,  or  make  my  friends  present,  you  everywhere  ; besides, 
you  have  no  need  of  any  one  to  introduce  you — with  your  name, 
and  your  fortune,  and  your  talent  ” (Monte-Cristo  bowed  with  a 
somewhat  ironical  smile)  44  you  can  present  yourself  everywhere, 
and  be  well  received  ; I can  be  useful  in  one  way  only — if  knowl- 
edge of  Parisian  habits,  of  the  means  of  rendering  yourself  com- 
fortable, or  of  the  bazaars,  can  assist,  you  may  dispose  of  me  to 
find  you  a fitting  dwelling  here.  I dare  offer  to  share  my  apart- 
ments with  you,  as  I shared  yours  at  Rome — for,  except  myself, 
these  rooms  would  not  contain  a shadow,  unless  it  were  the  shadow 
of  a female.” 

44  Ah,”  said  the  count,  44  that  is  a most  conjugal  reservation  ; I 
recollect  that  at  Rome  you  said  something  of  a projected  marriage. 
May  I congratulate  you  ? ” 

44  The  affair  is  still  in  projection.  My  father  is  most  anxious 
about  it ; and  I hope,  ere  long,  to  introduce  you,  if  not  to  my  wife, 
at  least  to  my  intended — Mdlle.  Eugenie  Danglars.” 44  Dang- 

lars ! ” said  Monte-Cristo;  44  tell  me,  is  not  her  father  Baron 
Danglars  ? ’ ’ 

44  Yes,”  returned  Morcerf  ; 44  a baron  of  a new  creation.” 

44 1 do  not  know  him,”  returned  Monte-Cristo:  44  but  I shah 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR/STO. 


187 

probably  soon  make  his  acquaintance,  for  I have  a credit  opened 
with  him  by  the  house  of  Richard  and  Blount,  of  London,  Arstein  * 
and  Eskeles  of  Vienna,  and  Thomson  and  French  at  Rome.”  As 
he  pronounced  the  two  last  names,  the  count  glanced  at  Maximil- 
ian Morrel.  If  the  stranger  expected  to  produce  an  effect  he  was 
not  mistaken — Maximilian  started  as  if  he  had  been  electrified,  j 
“Thomson  and  French!  ” said  he  ; “do  you  know  this  house,  ; 
sir  ? ” j 

“They  are  my  bankers  in  the  capital  of  the  Christian  world,” 
returned  the  count  quietly.  “ Can  my  influence  with  them  be  of 
any  service  to  you  ? ’ ’ 

“ Oh,  my  lord,  you  could  assist  me  perhaps  in  researches  which 
have  been,  up  to  the  present,  fruitless.  This  house,  in  past  years, 
did  ours  a great  service,  and  has,  I know  not  for  what  reason,  al- 
ways denied  having  rendered  us  this  service.” 

“ I shall  be  at  your  orders,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  inclining  him- 
self. 

“ But,”  continued  Morcerf,  “ we  have  strangely  wandered  from 
the  subject.  We  were  speaking  of  a suitable  habitation  for  the 
count  of  Monte-Cristo.  Come,  gentlemen,  let  us  all  propose  some 
place  : where  shall  we  lodge  this  new  guest  in  our  great  capital  ? " 

Various  fashionable  quarters  were  suggested. 

“You  have  no  idea,  then,  Morrel?”  asked  Chateau-Renaud : 

“ you  do  not  propose  anything.” 

“ Oh,  yes,”  returned  the  young  man,  smiling  ; “ on  the  contrary, 

I have  one  ; but  I expected  the  count  would  be  tempted  by  one  of 
the  brilliant  proposals  made  him  ; yet  as  he  has  not  replied  to  any 
of  them,  I will  venture  to  offer  him  a suite  of  apartments  in  a 
charming  house  in  the  Pompadour  style,  that  my  sister  has  in- 
habited for  a year,  in  Meslay  street.” 

“You  have  a sister?”  asked  the  count. “Yes,  sir,  who 

married  the  man  she  loved,  who  remained  faithful  to  us  in  our 
fallen  fortunes — Emmanuel  Herbaut.”  Monte-Cristo  smiled 
imperceptibly.  “I  live  there  during  my  leave  of  absence,”  con- 
tinued Maximilian  ; “ and  I shall  be,  together  with  my  brother-in- 
law  Emmanuel,  at  the  disposition  of  the  Count,  whenever  he 
thinks  fit  to  honor  us.” 

“ Thanks,  captain,”  said  Monte-Cristo;  “ I shall  content  my- 
self with  being  presented  to  your  sister  and  her  husband,  if  you 
will  do  me  the  honor  to  introduce  me  ; but  I cannot  accept  the 
offer  of  anyone  of  these  gentlemen,  since  my  habitation  is  already 
prepared.  As  I determined  to  have  a house  to  myself,  I sent  on 
my  valet,  and  he  ought  by  this  time  to  have  bought  the  house  and 
furnished  it.” 

“ Have  you,  then,  a man  who  knows  Paris  ? ” said  Beauchamp. 

“It  is  the  first  time  he  has  ever  been  in  Paris.  He  is  black, 
and  cannot  speak,”  returned  Monte-Cristo. 

9t  It  is  Ali ! ” cried  Albert,  in  the  midst  of  the  general  surprise. 


1 88 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


“ Yes,  Ali  himself,  my  Nubian  mute,  whom  you  saw,  I think,  at 
Rome.” 

“Certainly,’*  said  Morcerf:  “I  recollect  him  perfectly.  But 
how  could  you  charge  a Nubian  to  purchase  a house,  and  a mute, 
to  furnish  it? — he  will  do  everything  wrong.” 

“Undeceive  yourself,  monsieur,”  replied  Monte-Cristo  ; “lam 
quite  sure,  that,  on  the  contrary,  he  will  choose  everything  as  I 
wish.  He  knows  my  tastes,  my  caprices,  my  wants  ; he  has  been 
here  a week,  with  the  instinct  of  a hound,  hunting  by  himself ; he 
will  organize  everything  for  me.  He  knew  I should  arrive  to-day 
at  ten  o’clock  ; since  nine  he  awaited  me  at  Fontainebleau.  He 
gave  me  this  paper  ; it  contains  the  number  of  my  new  abode  ? 
read  it  yourself,”  and  Monte-Cristo  passed  a paper  to  Albert. 
“Ah,  that  is  really  original,”  said  Beauchamp. 

“And  very  princely,”  added  Chateatt-Renaud. 

“ What ! do  you  not  know  your  house  ? '*  asked  Debray. 

“ No,”  said  Monte-Cristo  ; “I  told  you  I did  not  wish  to  be 
behind  my  time  ; I dressed  myself  in  the  carriage  and  descended 
at  the  Viscount's  door.’’  The  men  looked  at  each  other ; they 
did  not  know  if  it  was  a comedy  Monte-Cristo  was  playing  ; but 
every  word  he  uttered  had  such  an  air  of  simplicity,  that  it  Was 
impossible  to  suppose  what  he  said  was  false  : besides,  why  should 
he  tell  a falsehood?  “We  must  content  ourselves,  then,”  said 
Beauchamp,  “ with  rendering  M.  le  Comte  all  the  little  services  in 
our  power.  I,  as  a journalist,  open  all  the  theatres  to  him.” 

“ Thanks,”  returned  Monte-Cristo,  “my  steward  has  orders  to 
take  a box  at  each  theatre.” 

“ Is  your  steward  also  a Nubian?”  asked  Debray. 

“ No,  he  is  a countryman  of  yours,  if  a Corsican  is  a country* 
man  of  anyone’s.  But  you  know  him,  M.  de  Morcerf.” 

“ Is  it  that  excellent  M.  Bertuccio,  who  understands  hiring  win- 
dows so  well  ? ” “ Yes,  you  saw  him  the  day  I had  the  honor 

of  receiving  you  ; he  has  been  a soldier,  a smuggler — in  fact, 
everything.  I would  not  be  quite  sure  that  he  has  not  been  mixed 
up  with  the  police  for  some  trifle — a stab  with  a knife,  for  in- 
stance.” 

“And  you  have  chosen  this  honest  citizen  for  your  steward,” 
said  Debray.  “ Of  how  much  does  he  rob  you  every  year  ? ” 

“On  my  word,”  replied  the  count,  “ not  more  than  another.  I 
am  sure  he  answers  my  purpose,  knows  no  impossibility,  and  so  I 

keep  him.” “Then,”  continued  Chateau-Renaud,  “since  you 

have  an  establishment,  a steward,  and  a mansion  in  the  Champs 
Elysees,  you  only  want  a housekeeper.” 

Albert  smiled.  He  thought  of  the  fair  Greek  he  had  seen  in  the 
count’s  box  at  the  theatres. 

“I  have  something  better  than  that,”  said  Monte-Cristo ; “I 
have  a slave.  You  procure  yours  from  the  Opera,  the  Vaudeville, 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO 189 

or  the  Varietes  ; I purchased  mine  at  Constantinople  : it  cost  me 
more,  but  I have  nothing  to  fear.” 

•*  But  you  forget,”  replied  Debray,  laughing,  “ that  we  are 
Frank  by  name  and  frank  by  nature,  as  King  Charles  said  ; and 
that  the  moment  she  put  her  foot  in  France  your  slave  become* 
free.” 

“ Who  will  tell  her  ? ” 

“ The  first  person  who  sees  her." 

“She  only  speaks  Romanic.” 

“ That  is  different.” 

“ But  at  least  we  shall  see  her,”  said  Beauchamp,  u or  do  yotl 
keep  eunuchs  as  well  as  mutes?  ” 

“ Oh,  no,”  replied  Monte-Cristo  ; “ I do  not  carry  brutalism  so 
far.  Everyone  who  surrounds  me  is  free  to  quit  me,  and  when 
they  leave  me  will  no  longer  have  any  need  of  me  or  any  one 
else  ; it  is  for  that  reason,  perhaps,  that  they  do  not  quit  me.” 
They  had  long  since  passed  to  dessert  and  cigars. 

“ My  dear  Albert,”  said  Debray,  rising,  “ I must  return  to  the 
minister’s.  I will  tell  him  of  the  count,  and  we  shall  soon  know 
who  he  is.” 

“ Take  care,”  returned  Albert ; ••  no  one  has  been  able  to  ac- 
complish that.” 

“Oh,  we  have  three  millions  for  our  police.” 

“ And  when  you  know,  will  you  tell  me  ? ” 

“ I promise  you.  Gentlemen,  good  morning.” 

“ Bravo  ! ” said  Beauchamp  to  Albert ; “ I shall  not  go  to  the 
house,  but  I have  something  better  to  offer  my  readers  than  a 
speech  ofM.  Danglars.” 

“For  heaven’s  sake,  Beauchamp,”  returned  Morcerf,  ••  do  not 
deprive  me  of  the  merit  of  introducing  him  everywhere.  Is  he  not 
peculiar?  ” 

“ He  is  more  than  that,”  replied  Chateau-Renaud  ; “ he  is  one 
of  the  most  extraordinary  men  I ever  saw.”  Morrel  left  the  room 
with  CMteau-Renaud,  leaving  Monte-Cristo  alone  with  Morcerf. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  PRESENTATION, 

When  Albert  found  himself  alone  with  Monte-Cristo,  he  said  : 
**  Allow  me  to  commence  my  ciceroneship  by  showing  you  a spec- 
imen of  a bachelor’s  apartment.”  Monte-Cristo  was  a worthy  ap- 
preciator  of  all  that  Albert  had  collected. 

Albert  expected  to  have  something  new  this  time  to  show  to  the 
traveler,  but,  to  his  great  surprise,  the  latter,  without  seeking  for 
the  signatures,  many  of  which,  indeed,  were  only  initials,  named 


190 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


instantly  the  author  of  every  picture  in  such  a manner  that  it  -vvas 
easy  to  see  that  each  name  was  not  only  known  to  him,  but  that 
each  of  their  styles  had  been  appreciated  and  studied  by  him. 
They  passed  into  the  bed-chamber  ; a model  of  taste  and  simple 
elegance.  A single  portrait,  signed  Leopold  Robert,  shone  in  its 
carved  and  gilded  frame.  This  portrait  attracted  the  Count  of 
Monte-Cristo’ s attention,  for  he  made  three  rapid  steps  in  the 
chamber,  and  stopped  suddenly  before  it.  It  was  the  portrait  of 
a woman  of  five  and  twenty,  with  a dark  complexion,  and  light 
and  lustrous  eyes,  veiled  beneath  long  lashes.  She  wore  the  pic. 
turesque  costume  of  the  Catalian  fisherwomen,  a red  and  black 
bodice,  and  golden  pins  in  her  hair.  She  was  looking  at  the  sea, 
and  her  outline  was  defined  on  the  blue  ocean  and  sky.  The, 
light  was  so  faint  in  the  room  that  Albert  did  not  perceive  the 
paleness  that  spread  itself  over  the  count’s  visage,  or  the  nervous 
heaving  of  his  chest  and  shoulders.  Silence  prevailed  for  an  in- 
stant, during  which  Monte-Cristo  gazed  intently  on  the  picture. 

“You  have  there  a most  charming  idol,  viscount,”  said  the 
count  in  a perfectly  calm  tone  ; “and  this  costume — a fancy  one, 
doubtless — becomes  her  admirably.” 

“ Ah  ! ” returned  Albert,  “ I would  never  forgive  you  this  mis- 
take if  you  had  seen  another  picture  beside  this.  You  do  not 
know  my  mother  ; she  it  is  whom  you  see  here  : she  had  her  por- 
trait painted  thus  six  or  eight  years  ago.  This  costume  is  a fancy 
one,  it  appears,  and  the  resemblance  is  so  great  that  I think  I 
still  see  my  mother  the  same  as  she  was  in  1830.  The  countess 
had  this  portrait  painted  during  the  count’s  absence.  She  doubt- 
less intended  giving  him  an  agreeable  surprise  ; but,  strange  to 
say,  this  portrait  seemed  to  displease  my  father,  and  the  value  of 
the  picture,  which  is,  as  you  see,  one  of  the  best  works  of  Leopold 
Robert,  could  not  overcome  his  dislike  to  it.  It  is  true,  between 
ourselves,  that  Morcerf  is  one  of  the  most  assiduous  peers  at  the 
Luxembourg,  a general  renowned  for  theory,  but  a most  mediocre 
amateur  of  art.  It  is  different  with  my  mother,  who  paints  ex- 
ceedingly well,  and  who,  unwilling  to  part  with  so  valuable  a pic- 
ture, gave  it  to  me  to  put  here,  where  it  would  be  less  likely  to  dis- 
please Morcerf,  whose  portrait,  by  Gros,  I will  also- show  you. 
Excuse  my  talking  of  family  matters  ; but  as  I shall  have  the  hon- 
or of  introducing  you  to  the  count,  I tell  you  this  to  prevent  you 
making  any  allusions  to  this  picture.  The  picture  seems  to  have  a 
malign  influence,  for  my  mother  rarely  comes  here  without  look- 
ing at  it,  and  still  more  rarely  does  she  look  at  it  without  weeping. 
This  disagreement  is  the  only  one  that  has  ever  taken  place  be- 
tween the  count  and  countess,  who  are  still  as  much  united, 
although  married  more  than  twenty  years,  as  the  first  day  of  their 
wedding.” 

Monte-Cristo  glanced  rapidly  at  Albert,  as  if  to  seek  a hidden 
Waning  it!  his  words ; but  it  was  evident  the  young  man  uttered 


the  count  of  monte  cristo. 


19* 

them  in  the  simplicity  of  his  heart  “ Now/*  said  Albert,  “ that 
you  have  seen  all  my  treasures,  allow  me  to  offer  them  to  you,  un- 
worthy as  they  are.  You  are  somewhat  used  up,  I know,  and 
family  scenes  have  not  much  effect  on  Sinbad  the  Sailor,  who  has 
seen  so  many  others.  However,  accept  what  I propose  to  you  as 
an  initiation  into  Parisian  life — a life  of  politeness,  visiting,  and  in- 
troductions.” Monte-Cristo  bowed  without  making  any  answer ; 
he  accepted  the  offer  without  enthusiasm  and  without  regret,  as 
one  of  those  conventions  of  society  which  every  gentleman  looks 
upon  as  a duty.  Albert  summoned  his  servant,  and  ordered  him 
to  acquaint  M.  and  Mdme.  de  Morcerf  of  the  arrival  of  the  count 
of  Monte-Cristo.  Albert  followed  him  with  the  count.  When 
they  arrived  at  the  drawing-room  the  most  conspicuous  object  was 
another  portrait  of  a man,  from  five  to  eight-and-thirty,  in  the  uni- 
form of  a general  officer  ; the  riband  of  the  Legion  of  Honor 
round  his  neck,  showed  he  was  a commander  ; and  on  the  breast, 
on  the  right,  the  star  of  a grand  officer  of  the  Order  of  the  Saviour, 
and  on  the  left  that  of  the  grand  cross  of  Charles  III.,  which 
proved  that  the  person  represented  by  the  picture  had  served  in 
the  wars  of  Greece  and  Spain  ; or,  the  same  thing  as  regarded 
decorations,  had  fulfilled  some  diplomatic  mission. 

Monte-Cristo  was  engaged  in  examining  this  portrait  with  no 
less  care  than  he  had  bestowed  upon  the  other,  when  another  door 
opened,  and  he  found  himself  opposite  to  Count  Morcerf  himself. 
He  was  a man  of  forty-five  years,  but  he  seemed  at  least  fifty,  and  his 
black  moustache  and  eyebrows  contrasted  strangely  with  his  al- 
most white  hair,  which  was  cut  short,  in  military  fashion.  He 
was  dressed  in  plain  clothes,  and  wore  at  his  button-hole  the  rib- 
ands of  the  different  orders  to  which  he  belonged.  This  man  en- 
tered with  a tolerably  dignified  step,  and  with  haste.  Monte- 
Cristo  saw  him  advance  toward  him  without  making  a single 
step.  It  seemed  as  if  his  feet  were  rooted  to  the  ground,  and  his 
eyes  on  Morcerf. 

“ Father,”  said  the  young  man,  “ I have  the  honor  of  present- 
ing to  you  the  Count  de  Monte-Cristo,  the  generous  friend  whom  I 
had  the  good  fortune  to  meet  in  the  critical  juncture  of  which  I 
have  told  you.” 

“ You  are  most  welcome,  sir,**  said  Morcerf,  saluting  Monte-Cristo 
with  a smile  ; “and  you  have  rendered  our  house,  in  preserving 
its  only  heir,  a service  which  insures  our  eternal  gratitude.**  As 
he  said  these  words,  Morcerf  pointed  to  a chair,  whilst  he  seated 
himself  in  another  opposite  the  window. 

Monte-Cristo,  whilst  he  took  the  seat  Morcerf  offered  him,  placed 
himself  in  such  a manner  as  to  remain  concealed  in  the  shadow  of 
the  large  velvet  curtains,  and  read  on  the  care-worn  and  livid 
features  of  the  count  a whole  historv  of  secret  griefs  written  in 
each  wrinkle  time  had  planted  there.  * The  lady,”  said  Morcerf 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


19 2 

••  was  at  her  toilette  when  she  was  informed  of  the  visit  she  wa& 
about  to  receive.  She  would,  however,  be  down  in  ten  minutes. 

“ It  is  a great  honor  for  me,”  returned  Monte-Cristo,  *‘tobe 
thus,  on  the  first  day  of  my  arrival  in  Paris,  brought  in  contact 
with  a man  whose  merit  equals  his  reputation,  and  to  whom  for. 
tune  has  for  once  been  equitable  ; but  has  she  not  still  on  the 
plains  of  Mitidja,  or  in  the  mountains  of  Atlas,  a marshal’s  staff  tc 
offer  you  ? ” 

Oh,”  replied  Morcerf,  reddening  slightly,  " I have  left  the  serv- 
ice.  Made  a peer  at  the  Restoration,  I served  through  the  first 
campaign  under  the  orders  of  Marshal  Bourmont.  I could,  there- 
fore,  expect  a higher  rank,  and  who  knows  what  might  have  hap* 
pened  had  the  elder  branch  remained  on  the  throne?  But  the 
Revolution  of  July  was,  it  seems,  sufficiently  glorious  to  allow  it- 
self to  be  ungrateful  ; and  it  was  so  for  all  services  that  did  not 
date  from  the  imperial  period.  I tendered  my  resignation  ; for 
when  you  have  gained  your  epaulets  on  the  battle-field,  you  do 
not  know  how  to  manoeuvre  on  the  slippery  floor.  I have  hung 
up  my  sword,  and  cast  myself  into  politics.  I have  devoted  my- 
self to  industry  ; I study  the  useful  arts.  During  the  twenty  years 
I served,  I often  wished  to  do  so,  but  I had  not  the  time.” 

“ These  are  the  ideas  that  render  your  nation  superior  to  any 
other,”  returned  Monte-Cristo.  " A gentleman  of  high  birth,  pos- 
sessor of  an  ample  fortune,  you  have  consented  to  gain  your  pro- 
motion as  an  obscure  soldier,  step  by  step — this  is  uncommon  ; 
then  become  general,  peer  of  France,  commander  of  the  Legion 
of  Honor,  you  consent  to  again  commence  a second  apprentice.* 
ship,  without  any  other  hope  or  any  other  desire  than  that  of  one 
day  becoming  useful  to  your  fellow-creatures  ; this,  indeed,  if 
praiseworthy, — nay,  more,  it  is  sublime.”  Albert  looked  on  and 
listened  with  astonishment ; he  was  not  used  to  see  Monte-Cristo 
give  vent  to  such  bursts  of  enthusiasm.  “ Alas!  ” continued  the 
stranger,  doubtless  to  dispel  the  slight  cloud  that  covered  Morcerf* 
brow,  “ we  do  not  act  thus  in  Italy  ; we  grow  according  to  our 
race  and  our  species,  and  we  pursue  the  same  lines,  and  often  the 
same  uselessness,  all  our  lives.” 

“ But,”  said  Morcerf,  “ you  have  been  free  to  choose  your  ca- 
reer, and  you  have  chosen  the  path  strewed  with  flowers.” 

“ Precisely,”  replied  Monte-Cristo,  with  one  of  those  smiles 
that  a painter  could  never  represent  or  a physiologist  analyze. 

**  Ah ! here  is  my  mother,”  cried  the  viscount.  Monte-Cristo 
turned  round  hastily,  and  saw  Lady  Morcerf  at  the  door  opposite 
to  that  by  which  her  husband  had  entered,  pale  and  motionless  ; 
when  Monte-Cristo  turned  round,  she  let  fall  her  arm,  which  for 
some  unknown  reason  had  been  resting  on  the  gilded  door-post. 
She  had  been  there  some  moments,  and  had  overheard  the  last 
words  of  the  visitor.  The  latter  rose  and  bowed  to  the  countess, 
who  inclined  herself  without  speaking;  0 Ah ! good  heavens. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTS  1 93 

madame  ! ” said  the  count,  “ are  you  unwell,  or  is  it  the  heat  oi 
the  room  that  affects  you  ! ” 

“Are  you  ill,  mother?”  cried  the  viscount,  springing  towards 
her. 

She  thanked  them  both  with  a smile.  “ No,”  returned  she, 
“ but  I feel  some  emotion  on  seeing,  for  the  first  time,  the  man 
without  whose  intervention  we  should  have  been  m and  des- 
olation. Sir,”  continued  the  countess,  advancing  with  the 
majesty  of  a queen,  “ I owe  to  you  the  life  of  my  son,  and  for  this 
1 bless  youo  Now  I thank  you  for  the  pleasure  you  give  me  in 
thus  affording  me  the  opportunity  of  thanking  you  as  I have 
blessed  you,  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart.”  The  count  bowed 
again,  but  lower  than  before  ; he  was  even  paler  than  Mercedes. 
“My  lady,”  said  he,  “the  count  and  yourself  recompense  too 
generously  a simple  action.  To  save  a man,  to  spare  a father’s 
feelings,  or  a mother’s  sensibility,  is  not  to  do  a good  action,  but  a 
simple  deed  of  humanity.”  At  these  words  uttered  with  the  most 
exquisite  sweetness  and  politeness,  Lady  Morcerf  replied, — “ It  is 
very  fortunate  for  my  son,  that  he  found  such  a friend,  and  I thank 
God  that  things  are  thus.”  And  Mercedes  raised  her  fine  eyes 
to  heaven  with  so  fervent  an  expression  of  gratitude,  that  the 
count  fancied  he  saw  tears  in  them.  Morcerf  approached  her. 
“Madame,”  said  he,  “I  have  already  made  my  excuses  to  the 
count  for  quitting  him,  and  I pray  you  to  do  so  also.  The  sitting 
commences  at  two  ; it  is  now  three,  and  I am  to  speak.” 

“ Go,  then,  and  we  will  strive  our  best  to  forget  your  absence  ! ” 
replied  the  countess,  with  the  same  tone  of  deep  feeling.  “ Count,” 
continued  she,  turning  to  Monte-Cristo,  “ will  you  do  us  the  hon- 
or of  passing  the  rest  of  the  day  with  us?  ” 

“ Believe  me,  madame,  I feel  most  grateful  for  your  kindness, 
but  I got  out  of  my  traveling  carriage  at  your  door  this  morning, 
and  I am  ignorant  how  I am  installed  in  Paris,  which  I scarcely 
know  ; tins  is  but  a trifling  inquietude,  I know,  but  one  that  may 
be  appreciated.” 

“ We  shall  have  this  pleasure  another  time  ! ” said  the  countess  ; 
“ you  promise  that?”  Monte-Cristo  inclined  himself  without  an- 
swering ; but  the  gesture  might  pass  for  assent.  “ I will  not  detain 
you,”  continued  the  countess  ; “ I would  not  have  our  gratitude 
become  indiscreet  or  importunate.” 

“My  dear  count,”  said  Albert,  “ I will  endeavor  to  return  your 
politeness  at  Rome,  and  place  my  coupe  at  your  disposal  until 
your  own  be  ready.” 

“A  thousand  thanks  for  your  kindness,  viscount,”  returned  the 
lount  of  Monte-Cristo;  “but  I suppose  that  Bertuccio  has  suit- 
ably employed  the  four  hours  and  a half  I have  given  him,  a&d 
that  I shall  find  a carriage  of  some  sort  ready  at  the  door.” 
Albert  was  used  at  the  count’s  manner  of  proceeding  : he  knew 
tW*,  like  Nero,  he  was  in  search  of  the  impossible,  and  nothing 

\\  — 


*94 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO \ 


astonished  him  ; only  wishing  to  judge  with  his  own  eyes  how  fat 
the  count’s  orders  had  been  executed,  he  accompanied  him  to  the 
door  of  the  hotel.  Monte-Cristo  was  not  deceived.  As  soon  as 
he  appeared  in  Morcerf’s  ante-chamber,  a footman,  the  same  who 
at  Rome  had  brought  the  count’s  card  to  the  two  young  men,  and 
announced  his  visit,  sprang  into  the  vestibule,  and  when  he  ar- 
rived at  the  door  the  illustrious  traveler  found  his  carriage  await- 
ing him.  It  was  a first  class  coupe,  and  with  horses  and  harness 
for  which  Drake  had,  to  the  knowledge  of  all  the  lions  of  Paris, 
refused  on  the  previous  day  seven  hundred  guineas. 

“ Sir,”  said  the  count  to  Albert,  “ I do  not  ask  you  to  accom» 
pany  me  to  my  house,  as  I can  only  show  you  a habitation  fitted 
up  in  a hurry,  and  I have,  as  you  know,  a reputation  to  keep  up 
as  regards  not  being  taken  by  surprise.  Give  me,  therefore,  one 
more  day  before  I invite  you  ; I shall  then  be  certain  not  to  fail  in 
my  hospitality.” 

“ If  you  ask  me  for  a day,  count,  I know  what  to  anticipate  ; it 
will  not  be  a house  I shall  see,  but  a palace.  You  have  decidedly 
some  genius  at  your  control.” 

‘‘Spread  that  idea,”  replied  Monte-Cristo,  putting  his  foot  on 
the  velvet-lined  steps  of  his  splendid  carriage,  “ and  that  will  be 
worth  something  to  me  among  the  ladies.”  As  he  spoke,  he 
sprang  into  the  vehicle,  the  door  was  closed,  but  not  so  rapidly 
that  Monte-Cristo  perceived  the  almost  imperceptible  movement 
which  stirred  the  curtains  of  the  apartment  in  which  he  had  left 
Lady  Morcerf.  When  Albert  returned  to  his  mother,  he  found 
her  in  the  boudoir  reclining  in  a large  velvet  arm-chair  ; the  whole 
room  so  obscure  that  only  the  shining  spangle,  fastened  here  and 
there  to  the  drapery,  and  the  angles  of  the  gilded  frames  of  the 
pictures,  gave  a kind  of  light  to  the  room.  The  young  man, 
standing  up  before  hen  gazed  upon  her  with  that  filial  affection 
which  is  more  tender  and  endearing  with  children  whose  mothers 
are  still  young  and  handsome.  Then,  seeing  her  eyes  closed,  but 
hearing  her  breathe  gently,  he  believed  she  had  dropped  asleep, 
and  left  the  apartment  on  tiptoe,  closing  the  door  after  him  with 
the  utmost  precaution.  “This  devil  of  a fellow,”  he  muttered, 
shaking  his  head  ; “I  said  at  the  time  he  would  create  a sensation 
here,  and  I measure  his  effect  by  an  infallibe  thermometer.  My 
mother  has  noticed  him,  and  he  must  therefore,  perforce,  be  re- 
markable.” He  went  down  to  the  stables,  not  without  some  slight 
annoyance,  when  he  remembered  that  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo 
had  laid  his  hands  on  a “ turnout  ” which  sent  his  bays  down  to 
number  2 in  the  opinion  of  connoisseurs.  “Most  decidedly/' 
said  he,  “ men  are  not  equal,  and  I must  beg  my  father  to  develop 
this  theorem  in  the  Chamber  of  Peers.” 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1ST0. 


l95 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A SINGULAR  STEWARD. 

During  this  time  the  count  had  arrived  at  his  house ; it  had 
taken  him  six  minutes  to  perform  the  distance  ; but  these  six 
minutes  were  sufficient  to  induce  twenty  young  men  who  knew  the 
price  of  the  equipage  they  had  been  unable  to  purchase  them- 
selves, to  put  their  horses  in  a gallop  in  order  to  see  the  rich  for- 
eigner who  could  afford  to  give  20,000  francs  apiece  for  his  horses. 
The  house  Ali  had  chosen,  and  which  was  to  serve  as  a town  resi- 
dence to  Monte-Cristo,  was  situated  on  the  right  hand  as  you  as- 
cended the  Champs  Elysees.  A thick  clump  of  tree  and  shrubs 
rose  in  the  centre,  and  masked  a portion  of  the  front ; around  this 
shrubbery  two  alleys,  like  two  arms,  extended  right  and  left,  and 
formed  a carriage-drive  from  the  iron  gates  to  a double  portico,  on 
every  step  of  which  stood  a porcelain  vase,  filled  with  flowers. 
This  house,  isolated  from  the  rest,  had,  besides  the  main  entrance, 
another  in  the  Rue  Ponthieu.  Even  before  the  coachman  had 
hailed  the  janitor,  the  massy  gates  rolled  on  their  hinges  : — he 
had  seen  the  count  coming,  and  at  Paris,  as  everywhere  else,  he 
was  served  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning.  The  coachman  en- 
tered, and  descending  the  half-circle  without  slackening  his  speed, 
the  gates  were  closed  ere  the  wheels  had  ceased  to  sound  on  the 
gravel.  The  carriage  stopped  at  the  left  side  of  the  portico,  two 
men  presented  themselves  at  the  carriage-window  ; the  one  was 
Ali,  who,  smiling  with  an  expression  of  the  most  sincere  joy, 
seemed  amply  repaid  by  a mere  look  from  Monte-Cristo.  The 
other  bowed  respectfully,  and  offered  his  arm  to  assist  the  countin 
descending.  “Thanks,  M.  Bertuccio,”  said  the  count,  springing 
lightly  up  the  three  steps  of  the  portico  ; “ and  the  notary  ? ” 

“ He  brought  the  transfer  deeds  of  the  property  your  excellency 
has  purchased  out  of  town.” 

No  sooner  was  the  master  alone  than  he  referred  to  a notebook 
with  a lock-clasp.  The  key  was  hung  on  a chain  round  his  neck. 
The  item  he  looked  at  was  “ Auteuil,  No.  28,  Fontaine  Street.” 

“ It  is  the  house  just  bought,”  he  muttered  and  now,  am  I to 
rely  upon  an  avowal  extorted  by  religious  or  physical  terror? 
However,  in  an  hour  I shall  know  all.  Bertuccio!”  cried  he, 
striking  a light  hammer  with  a pliant  handle  on  a small  gong. 
“Bertuccio!”  The  steward  appeared  at  the  door.  “Monsieur 
Bertuccio,”  said  the  count.  “ did  you  never  tell  me  that  you  had 
raveled  in  F ranee  ? ” 


196  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  ' 

••  In  some  parts  of  France — yes,  excellency.” 

“ You  know  the  environs  of  Paris,  then?  ” 

“No,  excellency,  no,”  returned  the  steward,  with  a sort  of 
nervous  trembling,  which  Monte-Cristo,  a judge  in  all  emotions, 
rightly  attributed  to  great  disquietude. 

“It  is  unfortunate,”  returned  he,  “ that  you  have  never  visited 
the  environs,  for  I wish  to  see  my  new  property  this  evening,  and 
had  you  gone  with  me,  you  could  have  given  me  some  useful  in- 
formation.” 

“To  Auteuil ! ” cried  Bertuccio,  whose  copper  complexion  be- 
came livid — “ I go  to  Auteuil?” 

“ Well,  what  is  there  surprising  in  that?  When  I liv#  at 
Auteuil,  you  must  come  there,  as  you  belong  to  my  service.’’  It 
was  unexampled  for  a servant  of  the  count’s  to  dare  to  dispute  an 
order  of  his  ; so  the  steward,  without  saying  a word,  followad  his 
master,  who  got  into  the  carriage,  and  signed  him  to  follow,  #kich 
he  did,  seating  himself  respectfully  on  the  front  seat. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE  HOUSE  OF  AUTEUIL. 

Monte-Cristo  had  remarked  that,  as  they  descendti!  the 
staircase,  Bertuccio  crossed  himself  in  the  Corsican  manner,  that  is, 
had  formed  the  sign  of  the  cross  in  the  air  with  his  thumb,  and  as  he 
seated  himself  in  the  carriage,  muttered  a short  prayer.  Any  one  but 
a curious  man  would  have  had  pity  on  seeing  the  steward’s  extra- 
ordinary repugnance  for  the  count’s  projected  ride  ; but  it  seemed 
the  count  was  too  curious  to  excuse  Bertuccio  this  little  journey. 
In  twenty  minutes  they  were  at  Auteuil.  No.  28  was  situated  at 
the  extremity  of  the  village  ; during  the  ride  night  had  set  in,  or 
rather  a black  cloud,  charged  with  electricity,  gave  to  these 
vapors  the  appearance  and  solemnity  of  a dramatic  episode. 
The  carriage  stopped,  the  footman  sprang  off  the  box,  and  opened 
the  door  “ Well,”  said  the  count,  “ you  do  not  get  out,  M.  Ber- 
tucdo — you  are  going  to  stay  in  the  carriage,  then  ? What  are 
you  thinking  of  this  evening  ? ” Bertuccio  sprang  out,  and  offered 
his  shoulder  to  the  count,  who,  this  time,  leaned  upon  it  as  he  de- 
scended the  three  steps  of  the  carriage*.  “ Knock,”  said  the 
count,  “and  announce  me.”  Bertuccio  knocked,  the  door 
opened,  and  the  porter  appeared.  “ What  is  it  ? ” asked  he. 

“ It  is  your  new  master,  my  good  fellow,”  said  the  footman. 
And  he  held  out  the  notary’s  order. 

“ The  house  is  sold,  then  ? ” demanded  he  ; **  arid  this  gentle* 
man  is  coming  to  live  here  ? ” 

“ Yes,  my  friend,”  returned  the  count ; “ and  I will  endeavor 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CEISTO. 


19? 


to  give  you  no  cause  to  regret  your  old  master.” “ Oh,”  said 

the  man,  44  I shall  not  have  much  cause  to  regret  him,  for  he  came 
here  but  seldom  ; it  is  five  years  since  he  was  here  last  ; and  he 
did  well  to  sell  the  house,  for  it  did  not  bring  him  in  anything  at 
all.” 

“ What  was  the  name  of  your  old  master?  ” said  Monte-Cristo. 

44  The  Marquis  of  Saint-Meran.  Oh,  lam  sure  he  has  not  sold  the 
house  for  what  he  gave  for  it.” 

" Saint-Meran  ! ” returned  the  count.  “The  name  is  not  un- 
known to  me.” 

«*An  old  noblefaan,”  continued  the  concierge,  “ a staunch  fol- 
lower of  the  Bourbons  ; he  had  an  only  daughter,  who  married  M. 
de  Villefort,  who  had  been  the  Nimes  proctor  and  afterwards  at 
Versailles.”  Monte-Cristo  glanced  at  Bertuccio,  who  became 
whiter  than  the  wall  against  which  he  leaned  to  prevent  himself 
from  falling.  “And  is  not  this  daughter  dead?”  demanded 
Monte-Cristo  ; “ I fancy  I have  heard  so.” 

41  Yes,  sir,  one-and-twenty  years  ago  ; and  since  then  we  have  not 
seen  the  poor  marquis  three  times.” 

44  Thanks,  thanks,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  judging  from  the  stew- 
ard’s utter  prostration  that  he  could  not  stretch  the  cord  further 
without  danger  of  breaking  it. 

44  Bertuccio,  take  one  of  the  carriage-lamps,  and  show  me  the 
apartments.”  The  steward  obeyed  in  silence. 

44  Ah!  here  is  a private  staircase,”  said  the  count;  4 4 that  is 
convenient.  Light  me,  M.  Bertuccio,  and  go  first ; we  will  see 
where  it  leads  to.” 

44  Sir,”  replied  Bertuccio,  44  it  leads  to  the  garden.” 

44  And,  pray,  how  do  you  know. that?  ” 

44  It  ought  to  do  so,  at  least.” 

44  Well,  let  us  be  sure  of  that.”  Bertuccio  sighed,  and  went  on 
first:  the  stairs  led,  in  reality,  to  the  garden.  At  the  outer  door 
the  steward  paused.  44  Go  on,  Bertuccio,”  said  the  count.  But 
he  to  whom  he  spoke  was  stupified,  bewildered,  stunned  ; his  hag- 
gard eyes  glanced  round,  as  if  in  search  of  the  traces  of  some  ter- 
rible event,  and  with  his  clenched  hands  he  seemed  striving  to 
shut  out  some  horrible  recollections.  44  Well ! ” insisted  the 
count.  44  No,  no,”  cried  Bertuccio,  setting  down  the  lantern  at 
the  angle  of  the  interior  wall.  44  No,  it  is  impossible  ; I can  go  no 
further.” 

44  What  does  this  mean?”  demanded  the  irresistible  voice  of 
Monte-Cristo. 

44  Why,  you  must  see,”  cried  the  steward,  44  that  this  is  not  nat- 
ural ; that,  having  a house  to  purchase,  you  purchase  it  exactly  at 
Auteuil  ; and  that,  purchasing  it  at  Auteuil,  this  house  should  be 
No.  28,  Rue  de  la  Fontaine.  Oh  ! why  did  I not  tell  you  all  ? I 
am  sure  you  would  not  have  forced  me  to  come.  I hoped  your 
house  would  have  been  some  other  one  than  this  ; as  if  there  was 


198  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 

not  another  house  at  Auteuil  than  that  of  the  assassination  ! ”~— 
44  Ah  ! ah  ! **  cried  Monte-Cristo,  stopping  suddenly,  44  what  words 
did  you  utter?  Devil  of  a man,  Corsican  that  you  are — always 
mysteries  or  superstitions.  Come,  take  the  lantern,  and  let  us 
visit  the  garden  ; you  are  not  afraid  of  ghosts  with  me,  I hope  ? ” 
Bertuccio  raised  the  lantern,  and  obeyed.  The  door,  as  it  opened, 
disclosed  a gloomy  sky,  in  which  the  moon  strove  vainly  to  strug- 
gle through  a sea  of  clouds  that  covered  her  with  their  sombre 
wave,  that  she  illumined  for  an  instant,  and  was  then  lost  in  the 
darkness.  The  steward  wished  to  turn  to  the  left.  44  No,  no, 
monsieur/*  said  Monte-Cristo.  44  What  is  the  use  of  following  the 
jalleys?  Here  is  a beautiful  lawn  ; let  us  go  on  straight  forwards.” 

Bertuccio  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  brow,  but  obeyed  ; 
however,  he  continued  to  take  the  left  hand.  Monte-Cristo,  on 
the  contrary,  took  the  right  hand  ; arrived  near  a clump  of  trees, 
he  stopped.  The  steward  could  not  restrain  himself.  44  Move, 
monsieur — move  away,  I entreat  you  ; you  are  exactly  in  the 
spot ! ” 

44  What  spot  ? * * 4 4 Where  he  fell.  ’ * 

44  My  dear  Bertuccio,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  laughing,  44  recovei 
yourself ; we  are  no  longer  at  Sart&ne  or  at  Corte.  This  is  not  a 
marsh  but  a garden  ; badly  kept,  I own,  but  still  you  must  not 
calumniate  it  for  that/* 

44  5 implore  you,  do  not  stay  there  ! *’ 

44 1 think  you  are  going  mad,  Bertuccio,*’  said  the  count  coldly. 
44  If  that  is  the  case,  I warn  you,  I shall  have  you  put  in  a lunatic 
asylum.” 

44  But,  my  lord,”  replied  Bertuccio,  hesitatingly,  44  did  not 
Father  Busoni,  who  heard  my  confession  in  the  prison  at  N'imes, 
tell  you  I had  a heavy  reproach  to  make  against  myself?  ** — — 
44  Yes  ; but  as  he  said  you  would  make  an  excellent  steward,  1 
concluded  you  had  stolen — that  was  all.  Or,  as  you  are  a Corsi- 
can, that  you  had  been  unable  to  resist  the  desire  of  making  a 
a peau,  as  you  call  it.” 

44  Yes,  my  good  master,”  cried  Bertuccio,  casting  himself  at  the 
count’s  feet,  44  it  was  simply  a vengeance — nothing  else.” 

44  I understand  that,  but  I do  not  understand  what  it  is  that  gal- 
vanizes you  in  this  manner.” — — 44  But,  sir,  it  is  very  natural,”  re- 
turned Bertuccio,  44  since  it  was  in  this  house  that  my  vengeance 

was  accomplished.” “What!  my  house?” 44  Oh,  it  was 

not  yours,  then.” “Whose,  then?  The  Marquis  de  Saint- 

Meran’s,  I think,  the  porter  said.  What  had  you  to  revenge  on 

Saint-Meran?  ” 44  Oh,  it  was  not  on  him,  monsieur  ; it  was  on 

another.” 

44  Well,  come,  collect  yourself,  and  tell  me  all.”  And  the 
count,  humming  an  air  from  Lucia , went  to  sit  down  on  a bench, 
whilst  Bertuccio  followed  him,  collecting  his  thoughts.  Bertuccio 
remained  standing  before  him. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


195 


^The  story  begins  in  1815.” 

•*  Ah,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  “ 1815  is  not  yesterday.” 

No  ; and  yet  I recollect  all  things  as  clearly  as  if  they  had 
happened  but  then.  I had  a brother,  an  elder  brother,  who  was 
in  the  service  of  the  emperor  ; he  had  become  lieutenant  in  a reg- 
iment composed  entirely  of  Corsicans.  This  brother  was  my  only 
friend  ; we  became  orphans — I at  five,  he  at  eighteen.  He 
brought  me  up  as  if  I had  been  his  son,  and  in  1814  he  married. 
When  the  emperor  returned  from  the  island  of  Elba,  my  brother 
instantly  joined  the  army,  was  slightly  wounded  at  Waterloo*  and 
retired  with  the  army  behind  the  Loire. 

“ One  day  we  received  a letter.  I should  tell  you  that  we  lived 
in  the  little  village  of  Rogliano,  at  the  extremity  of  Cape  Corse. 
This  letter  was  from  my  brother.  He  told  us  that  the  army  was 
disbanded,  and  that  he  should  return  ; and,  if  I had  any  money, 
he  prayed  me  to  leave  it  for.  him  at  Nimes,  with  an  innkeeper  with 
whom  I had  dealings.” 

•*  In  the  smuggling  line  ? ” said  Monte-Cristo. 

“ Every  one  must  live.” 

“ Certainly  ; continue.” 

“I  loved  my  brother  tenderly,  as  I told  your  excellency,  and  I 
resolved  not  to  send  the  money  but  to  take  it  to  him  myself.  I 
possessed  a thousand  francs.  I left  five  hundred  with  Assunta, 
my  sister-in-law,  and  with  the  other  five  hundred  I set  off  for 
Nimes. 

“Just  at  this  time  the  famous  massacres  of  the  south  of  France 
took  place.  Two  or  three  brigands,  called  Trestaillon,  Trup- 
hemy,  and  Graffan,  publicly  assassinated  everybody  whom  they 
suspected  of  Bonapartism.  As  I entered  Nimes,  I literally  waded 
in  blood ; at  every  step  you  encountered  dead  bodies  and  bands 
of  the  murderers,  who  killed,  plundered,  and  burned.  I hastened 
to  the  inn.  My  presages  had  been  but  too  true  : my  brother  had 
arrived  the  previous  evening  at  Nimes,  and,  at  the  very  door  of 
the  house  where  he  was  about  to  demand  hospitality,  he  had  been 
assassinated.  I did  all  in  my  power  to  discover  the  murderers, 
but  no  one  durst  tell  me  their  names,  so  much  were  they  dreaded. 
I then  thought  of  that  French  justice  of  which  I had  heard  so 
much,  and  which  feared  nothing  and  I went  to  the  proctor, 
named  Villefort ; he  came  from  Marseilles,  where  he  had  been 
deputy.  His  zeal  had  procured  him  advancement,  and  he  was 
said  to  be  one  of  the  first  who  had  informed  the  government  of 
the  departure  from  the  island  of  Elba. 

“ I said,  * My  brother  was  assassinated  yesterday  in  the  streets 
of  Nimes,  I know  not  by  whom,  but  it  is  your  duty  to  find  out. 
You  are  the  head  of  justice  here,  and  it  is  for  justice  to  avenge 
those  she  has  been  unable  to  protect.’ 

“ 1 Who  was  your  brother?  ’ asked  he. * A lieutenant  in  the 

Corsican  battalion.  — ‘ A soldier  of  the  usurper  then  l ‘ A 


200 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


soldier  of  the  French  army.* ‘Well/  replied  he,  ‘he  has  Strut* 

ten  with  the  sword,  and  has  perished  by  the  sword.’ « You  are 

mistaken,  monsieur,*  I replied  ; ‘ he  has  perished  by  the  dagger.' 
— 1 * What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ? ’ asked  the  magistrate. — — * I 

have  already  told  you — avenge  him.* ‘On  whom?’—-: — ‘On 

his  murderers.’ ‘ How  should  I know  who  they  are  ?’ Or- 
der them  to  be  sought  for.’ ‘ Why,  your  brother  has  been  in- 

volved in  a quarrel,  and  killed  in  a duel.  All  these  old  soldiers 
commit  excesses  which  were  tolerated  in  the  time  of  the  emperor, 
but  which  are  not  suffered  now  ; for  the  people  here  do  not  like 

soldiers  of  such  disorderly  conduct.’ * Sir,’  I replied,  ‘ it  is  not 

for  tnyself  that  I entreat  your  interference — I should  grieve  for 
him  or  avenge  him ; but  my  poor  brother  had  a wife,  and, 
were  anything  to  happen  to  me,  the  poor  creature  would  perish 
from  want ; for  my  brother’s  pay  alone  kept  her.  Pray,  try  and 
obtain  a small  government  pension  for  her.’ 

“ ‘ Every  revolution  has  its  catastrophes,'  returned  M.  de  Ville- 
fort ; ‘ your  brother  has  been  the  victim  of  this.  It  is  a misfortune, 
and  government  owes  nothing  to  his  family.  If  we  are  to  judge 
by  all  the  vengeance  that  the  followers  of  the  usurper  exercised 
on  the  partisans  of  the  king,  when,  in  their  turn,  they  were  in 
power,  your  brother  would  be  to-day,  in  all  probability,  con* 
demned  to  death.  What  has  happened  is  quite  natural,  and  is 
only  the  law  of  reprisals.’ 

“ ‘What!  * cried  I,  ‘do  you,  a magistrate,  speak  thus  to  me?* 

“ ‘ All  you  Corsicans  are  mad,  on  my  honor,’  replied  M.  de  Ville* 
fort  ; ‘ they  fancy  that  their  countryman  is  still  emperor.  You 
have  mistaken  the  time  ; you  should  have  told  me  this  two 
months  ago  ; it  is  too  late  now.  Depart  instantly,  or  I will  com- 
pel you  to  do  so.’ 

“ I looked  at  him  an  instant  to  see  if,  by  renewed  entreaties, 
there  was  anything  to  hope.  But  this  man  was  of  stone.  I ap- 
proached him,  and  said  in  a low  voice,  ‘ Well,  since  you  know 
the  Corsicans  so  well,  you  know  that  they  always  keep  their 
word.  You  think  that  it  was  a good  deed  to  kill  my  brother, 
who  was  a Bonapartist,  because  you  are  a royalist ! Well,  I,  who 
am  a Bonapartist  also,  declare  one  thing  to  you,  which  is,  that  I 
will  kill  you ! From  this  moment  I declare  the  vendetta  against  you  ; 
so  protect  yourself  as  well  as  you  can,  for  the  next  time  we  meet 
your  last  hour  has  come  ! ” And  before  he  had  recovered  from 
his  surprise,  I opened  the  door  and  left  the  room. 

“During  three  months  I watched  M.  de  Villefort;  for  three 
months  he  took  not  a step  out  of  doors  without  my  following 
him.  At  length  I discovered  that  he  went  mysteriously  to 
Auteuil.  I followed  him  thither,  and  I saw  him  enter  tne  house 
where  we  now  are  ; only,  instead  of  entering  by  the  great  door 
that  looks  into  the  street,  he  came  on  horseback,  or  in  his  car* 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


201 


*iage,  left  the  one  or  the  other  at  the  little  inn,  and  entered  by  the 
gate  you  see  there  ! ” 

Monte-Cristo  made  a sign  with  his  head  that  he  could  discern 
amid  the  darkness  the  door  to  which  Bertuccio  alluded. 

<«  As  I had  nothing  more  to  do  at  Versailles,  I went  to 
Auteuil,  and  gained  all  the  information  I could.  If  I wished  to 
surprise  him,  it  was  evident  this  was  the  spot  to  lie  in  wait  for 
him.  The  house  belonged  to  Saint-Meran,  Villefort’s  father-in- 
law.  Saint-Meran  lived  at  Marseilles  so  that  this  country  house 
was  useless  to  him,  and  it  was  reported  to  be  let  to  a young 
widow,  known  only  by  the  name  of  1 the  Baroness.’ 

41  One  evening,  as  I was  looking  over  the  wall,  I saw  a young 
and  handsome  woman  who  was  walking  alone  in  that  garden, 
which  was  not  overlooked  by  any  windows,  and  I guessed  that 
she  was  awaiting  M.  de  Villefort.  When  she  was  sufficiently  near 
to  distinguish  her  features,  I saw  she  was  from  eighteen  to  nine- 
teen, tall  and  very  fair.  As  she  had  a loose  muslin  dress  on,  and 
as  nothing  concealed  her  figure,  I saw  she  would  ere  long  be- 
come a mother.  A few  moments  after,  the  little  door  was 
opened  and  a man  entered  ; the  young  female  hastened  to  meet 
him  ; they  threw  themselves  into  each  other’s  arms,  embraced 
tenderly,  and  returned  together  to  the  house.  This  man  was  M. 
de  Villefort ; I fully  believed  that  when  he  went  out  in  the  nigh*  he 
would  be  forced  to  traverse  the  whole  of  the  garden  alone. 

“That  evening,  I could  have  killed  him;  but  as  I was  not 
sufficiently  master  of  the  localities,  I was  fearful  of  not  killing  him 
on  the  spot,  and  that,  should  his  cries  give  the  alarm,  I could 
not  escape,  I put  it  off  until  the  next  occasion,  and  in  order  that 
nothing  should  escape  me,  I took  a chamber  looking  into  the 
street  along  which  ran  the  wall  of  the  garden.  Three  days  after, 
about  seven  o’clock  in  the  evening,  I saw  a servant  on  horseback 
leave  the  house  at  full  gallop,  and  take  the  road  that  led  to 
Sevres.  I conjectured  he  was  going  to  Versailles,  and  I was  not 
deceived.  Three  hours  after,  the  man  returned  covered  with 
dust,  his  errand  was  performed  : and  ten  minutes  after,  another 
man  on  foot,  muffled  in  a mantle,  opened  the  little  door  of  the 
garden,  which  he  closed  after  him.  I descended  rapidly  ; al- 
though I had  not  seen  Villefort’s  face,  I recognized  him  by  the 
beating  of  my  heart.  I crossed  the  street,  and  stopped  et  a post 
placed  at  the  angle  of  the  wall,  and  by  means  of  which  I had 
once  before  looked  into  the  garden.  This  time  I did  not  con- 
tent myself  with  looking*  but  I took  my  knife  out  of  my  pocket, 
felt  that  the  point  was  sharp,  and  sprang  over  the  wall.  My  first 
care  was  to  run  to  the  door;  he  had  left  the  key  in  it,  taking 
the  simple  precaution  of  turning  it  twice  in  the  lock.  Nothing, 
then,  preventing  my  escape  by  this  means,  I examined  the  lo- 
calities. The  garden  formed  a long  square  ; a terrace  of  smooth 
lurf  extended  in  the  middle,  and  at  the  corners  were  islands  of 


20  2 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


trees  with  thick  and  massy  foliage,  that  mingled  with  the  shrubs 
and  flowers.  In  order  to  go  from  the  door  to  the  house,  or  from 
the  house  to  the  door,  M.  de  Villefort  was  compelled  to  pass  by 
one  of  these  clumps. 

“It  was  the  end  of  September;  the  wind  blew  violently.  The 
faint  glimpses  of  the  pale  moon,  hidden  at  every  instant  by  the 
masses  of  dark  clouds  that  were  sweeping  across  the  sky, 
whitened  the  gravel  walks  that  led  to  the  house,  but  were  un- 
able to  pierce  the  obscurity  of  the  thick  shrubberies,  in  which  a 
man  could  conceal  himself  without  any  fear  of  discovery.  I hid 
myself  in  the  one  nearest  to  the  path  Villefort  must  take  ; and 
scarcely  was  I there  when,  amidst  the  gusts  of  wind,  I fancied 
I heard  groans ; he  who  is  about  to  commit  an  assassination 
fancies  he  hears  low  cries  perpetually  ringing  in  his  ears.  Two 
hours  passed  thus,  during  which  I imagined  I heard  these  moan? 
repeated.  Midnight  struck.  As  the  last  stroke  died  away,  I saw 
a faint  light  shine  through  the  windows  of  the  private  staircase  by 
which  we  have  just  descended.  The  door  opened,  and  the  man 
in  the  mantle  re-appeared.  The  terrible  moment  had  come  ! but 
I had  so  long  been  prepared  for  it  that  my  heart  did  not  fail  in 
the  least ; I drew  my  knife  from  my  pocket  again,  opened  it,  and 
prepared  myself  to  strike.  The  man  in  the  mantle  advanced  to- 
ward me,  but  as  he  drew  near  I saw  he  had  a weapon  in  his  hand. 
I was  afraid,  not  of  a struggle,  but  of  a failure.  When  he  was 
only  a few  paces  from  me,  I saw  that  what  I had  taken  for  a 
weapon  was  only  a spade.  I was  still  unable  to  divine  for  what 
reason  M«  de  Villefort  had  this  spade  in  his  hands,  when  he 
stopped  close  to  the  clump,  glanced  round,  and*began  to  dig  a hole 
in  the  earth.  I then  perceived  that  he  hid  something  beneath  his 
mantle,  which  he  laid  on  the  grass  in  order  to  dig  more  freely. 
Then,  I confess,  curiosity  became  mixed  with  my  hatred  ; I 
wished  to  see  what  Villefort  was  was  going  to  do  there,  and  I re- 
mained motionless  and  holding  my  breath.  Then  an  idea  crossed 
my  mind,  which  was  confirmed  when  I saw  the  procureur  du  m 
lift  from  under  his  mantle  a box,  two  feet  long,  and  six  or  eight 
inches  deep.  1 let  him  place  the  box  in  the  hole  he  had  made  ; 
then,  whilst  he  stamped  with  his  feet  to  remove  all  traces  of  his  oc- 
cupation, I rushed  on  him  and  plunged  my  knife  into  his  breast, 
exclaiming, — * I am  Giovanni  Bertuccio ; thy  death  for  my 
brother’s;  thy  treasure  for.  his  widow;  thou  seest  that  my  ven- 
geance is  more  complete  than  I had  hoped.’  I know  not  if  he 
heard  these  words  ; I think  he  did  not,  for  he  fell  without  a cry, 
I felt  his  blood  gush  over  my  face,  but  I was  intoxicated,  I was 
delirious,  and  the  blood  refreshed,  instead  of  burning  me.  In  a 
second  I had  disinterred  the  box  ; then,  that  it  might  not  be 
known  I had  done  so,  I filled  up  the  hole,  threw  the  spade  over 
the  wall,  and  rushed  through  the  door,  which  I doubled-locked» 
carrying  off  the  key* 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


203 


I hastened  to  the  river,  sat  down  on  the  bank,  and  with  my 
knife  forced  open  the  lock  of  the  box.  In  a fine  linen  cloth  was 
wrapped  a new-born  child.  As  I had  been  assistant  at  the  hospital 
at  Bastia,  I did  what  a doctor  would  have  done — I inflated  the 
lungs  by  blowing  air  into  them,  and  at  the  expiration  of  a quarter 
of  an  hour,  I saw  the  breathing  commence,  and  a feeble  cry  was 
heard.  In  my  turn  I uttered  a cry,  but  of  joy.  'God  has  not 
cursed  me  then/  I cried,  'since  he  permits  me  to  save  the  life  of 
a human  creature,  in  exchange  for  the  life  I have  taken  away.’  ” 
“ And  what  did  you  do  with  the  child?  ” asked  Monte-Cristo. 

“ It  was  an  embarrassing  load  for  a man  seeking  to  escape.” 

“ 1 had  not  for  a moment  the  idea  of  keeping  it,  but  I knew  that 
at  Paris  there  was  an  hospital  where  they  receive  these  poor 
creatures.  I wrapped  half  the  linen  round  the  child,  whilst  the 
other  remained  in  my  possession,  I rang  the  bell,  and  fled  with  all 
speed.  A fortnight  after  I was  at  Rogliano,  and  I said  to  As- 
sunta, — * Console  thyself,  sister  ; Israel  is  dead,  but  he  is  avenged.’ 
She  demanded  what  I meant,  and  when  I had  recounted  all  to  her, 
* Giovanni,' said  she,  ‘you  should  have  brought  this  child  with  you  ; 
we  would  have  replaced  the  parents  it  has  lost,  have  called  it 
Benedetto,  and  then,  in  consequence  of  this  good  action,  God 
would  have  blessed  us.'  In  reply  I gave  her  the  half  of  the  linen 
I had  kept  in  order  to  reclaim  him  if  we  became  rich.’* 

“ What  letters  were  marked  on  the  linen?”  said  Monte-Cristo. 
“An  H and  an  N,  surmounted  by  a baron's  coronet.” 

“ Partly  to  drown  the  recollections  of  the  past  that  haunted  me, 
partly  to  supply  the  wants  of  the  poor  widow,  I eagerly  returned 
to  my  trade  of  smuggler,  which  had  become  more  easy  since  that 
relaxation  of  the  laws  which  always  follows  a revolution. 

“ My  journeys  became  more  and  more  extensive  and  more  pro- 
ductive. Assunta  took  care  of  all,  and  our  little  fortune  increased. 
One  day  that  I was  setting  off  on  an  expedition,  said  she  : ‘ on  your 
return  I will  give  you  a surprise.*  I questioned  her  but  in  vain  ; 
she  would  tell  me  nothing,  and  I departed.  When  I entered  the 
house,  the  first  thing  I beheld  in  the  centre  of  Assunta’s  chamber 
was  a cradle  that  might  be  called  sumptuous  compared  with  the 
rest  of  the  furniture,  and  in  it  a baby  of  seven  or  eight  months  old. 
Poor  Assunta  had  guessed  all.  She  had  profited  by  my  absence, 
and  furnished  with  the  half  of  the  linen,  and  having  w ritten  down 
the  day  and  hour  at  wrhich  I had  deposited  the  child  at  the  hos- 
pital, had  set  off  for  Paris,  and  had  reclaimed  it.  No  objection  was 
raised,  and  the  infant  was  given  up  to  her. 

“ God  made  this  infant  the  instrument  of  our  punishment. 
Never  did  a perverse  nature  declare  it  self  more  prematurely  ; and 
yet  it  was  not  owing  to  any  fault  in  his  bringing  up.  He  wras  a 
most  lovely  child.  It  is  true  that  the  indulgence  of  his  mother  en- 
couraged him.  One  day  when  Benedetto  was  about  five  or  six, 
our  neighbor  Wasilio,  who,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  coun- 


204 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


try,  never  locked  up  his  purse  or  his  valuables — for,  as  your  ex- 
cellency knows,  there  are  no  thieves  in  Corsica — complained  that 
he  had  lost  a louis  out  of  his  purse  ; we  thought  he  must  have 
made  a mistake  in  counting  his  money,  but  he  persisted  in  the  ac- 
curacy of  his  statement.  One  day,  Benedetto,  who  had  quitted  the 
house  since  the  morning,  to  our  great  anxiety,  did  not  return  until 
late  in  the  evening,  dragging  a monkey  after  him,  which  he  said 
he  had  found  chained  to  the  foot  of  a tree.  For  more  than  a month 
fpast,  the  mischievous  child,  who  knew  not  what  to  wish  for,  had 
;(taken  it  into  his  head  to  have  a monkey.  A boatman,  who  had 
i passed  by  Rogliano,  and  who  had  several  of  these  animals,  whose 
tricks  had  greatly  diverted  him,  had,  doubtless,  suggested  this 
idea  to  him*  * Monkeys  are  not  found  in  our  woods  chained  to 
trees,’  said  I ; 4 confess  how  you  obtained  this  animal.’  Benedetto 
maintained  the  truth  of  what  he  had  said,  and  accompanied  it 
with  details  that  did  more  honor  to  his  imagination  than  to  his 
veracity.  I became  angry ; he  began  to  laugh  ; I threatened  to 
strike  him,  and  he  made  two  steps  backwards.  * You  cannot  beat 
me,’  said  he  ; 1 you  have  no  right,  for  you  are  not  my  father.’ 

M We  never  knew  who  had  revealed  this  fatal  secret,  which  we 
had  so  carefully  concealed  from  him  ; however,  it  was  this  answer, 
in  which  the  child’s  whole  character  revealed  itself,  that  almost 
terrified  me,  and  my  arm  fell  without  touching  him.  The  boy 
triumphed,  and  this  victory  rendered  him  so  audacious,  that  all  the 
money  of  Assunta,  whose  affection  for  him  seemed  to  increase  as 
he  became  more  unworthy  of  it,  was  spent  in  caprices  she  knew 
not  how  to  contend  against,  and  follies  she  had  not  the  courage  to 
prevent.  When  he  was  only  eleven,  he  chose  his  companions  from 
among  the  young  men  of  eighteen  or  twenty,  the  worst  characters 
in  Bastia,  or,  indeed,  in  Corsica  : and  they  had  already,  for  some 
pieces  of  mischief,  been  several  times  threatened  with  a prosecu- 
tion. I became  alarmed,  as  any  prosecution  might  be  attended 
with  serious  consequences.  I was  compelled,  at  this  period,  to 
leave  Corsica  on  an  important  expedition. 

M Our  expedition  commenced  favorably.  We  anchored  our  bark, 
which  had  a double  hold,  where  our  goods  were  concealed,  amidst 
a number  of  other  vessels  that  bordered  the  banks  of  the  Rhone 
from  Beaucaire  to  Arles.  On  our  arrival  there  we  began  to  dis- 
charge our  cargo  in  the  night,  and  to  convey  it  into  the  town,  by 
the  help  of  those  with  whom  we  were  connected.  Whether  suc- 
cess rendered  us  imprudent,  or  whether  we  were  betrayed,  I know 
not : but  one  evening,  our  vessel  was  surrounded,  and  amongst  the 
customhouse  officers  I observed  several  gendarmes  ; and,  as  terri- 
fied at  the  sight  of  their  uniforms  as  I was  brave  at  the  sight  of  any 
other,  I sprang  into  the  hole,  opened  a port,  and  dropped  into  the 
river,  dived,  and  only  rose  an  intervals  to  breathe,  until  I reached 
a cutting  that  led  from  the  Rhone  to  the  canal  that  runs  from 
Beaucaire  to  Aigues  Ivlnnes.  1 wa«  npw  safe,  fpr  I could  swim 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


205 


along  the  cutting  without  being  seen,  and  I reached  the  canal  in 
safety.  1 had  designedly  taken  this  direction.  I have  already  told 
your  excellency  of  an  inn-keeper  of  Nimes  who  had  set  up  a little 
inn  on  the  road  from  Bellegarde  to  Beaucaire. 

“ He  had,  seven  or  eight  years  before  this  period,  sold  his  estab- 
lishment to  a tailor  of  Marseilles,  who,  having  almost  ruined  him- 
self in  his  old  trade,  wished  to  make  his  fortune  in  another.  Of 
course,  we  made  the  same  arrangements  with  the  new  landlord 
that  we  had  with  the  old  ; and  it  was  of  this  man  that  I intended  to 
ask  shelter. 

“This  Gaspard  Caderousse  ; he  had  married  a woman  from  the 
village  of  Carconte,  and  whom  we  did  not  know  by  any  other 
name  than  that  of  her  village.  She  was  suffering  from  the  marsh- 
fever,  and  seemed  dying  by  inches.  As  for  her  husband,  he  was 
a strapping  fellow  of  forty,  or  five-and-forty,  who  had  more  than 
once,  in  time  of  danger,  givrn  ample  proof  of  his  presence  of  mind 
and  courage. 

“ It  was  from  Caderousse  that  I intended  demanding  shelter; 
and,  as  we  never  entered  by  the  door  that  opened  on  to  the  road, 
I resolved  not  to  break  through  the  rule,  and,  climbing  over  the 
garden-hedge,  I crept  amongst  the  olive  and  wild  fig  trees ; and, 
fearing  that  Caderousse  might  have  son  e one  there,  I entered  a 
kind  of  shed  in  which  I had  often  passed  the  nignt,  and  which  was 
only  separated  fr6m  the  inn  by  a partition,  in  which  holes  had  been 
made  in  order  to  enable  us  to  watch  an  opportunity  of  announcing 
our  presence.  If  Caderousse  were  alone,  I would  tell  him  the  news 
and  go  back  under  cover  of  the  brewing  storm  to  see  how  our  6hip 
and  men  got  on.  I went  into  the  inn  hanger  which  was  lucky,  for 
the  host  had  a guest.” 

"This  guest  was  a jeweller  to  whom  Caderousse  had  a gem  to 
offer.  He  was  higgling  over  the  price,  50.000  francs,  for  which 
valuable  he  accounted  by  saying  that  it  had  been  sent  him  by  a 
friend  of  his  youth,  a sailor  named  Edmond  Dantes,  dead  in 
prison.  Dantes  had  it  from  a rich  Englishman  imprisoned  with 
him  and  whose  life  the  seaman  had  saved  by  nursing  him  through 
sickness. 

" Caderousse  sold  the  stone,  and  as  the  tempest  impended  per- 
suaded the  merchant  to  stop  overnight.  For  my  part,  I was  over- 
powered and  I went  to  sleep  where  I was.  The  thunder  lulled  me 
and  even  its  peals  did  not  disturb  me.  But  in  the  night  I heard 
screams  and  a pistol  shot. 

"I  climbed  through  a window  and  entered  the  house.  In  a 
chamber  up-stairs  I found  Caderousse’s  wife  dying  of  the  gunshot 
and  in  a bedroom  the  jewel-peddler  dead  of  knife-wounds.  Cader- 
ousse had  fled  and  I easily  guessed  -that  he  had  committed  the 
double  crime  to  possess  himself  of  the  jewel.  Unfortunately  he  was 
luckier  than  I,  for  the  shot  and  shrieks  had  been  heard  on  the 
road  and  a force  of  revenue  officers  and  the  mounted  police  sur- 


206 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


rounded  the  inn  and  captured  me,  as  it  seemed,  red  handed  froir 
the  deeds. 

“ The  magistrates  at  Nismes  committed  me  for  trial,  and  in 
three  months  or  so  the  assizes  would  have  dealt  with  me.  Luckily, 
the  good  priest  Busoni,  whose  name  I had  caught  in  the  talk  of 
Caderousse  and  his  wife  as  transmitter  of  the  diamond  to  them, 
came  in  answer  to  my  general  appeal  for  a witness  in  my  favor..  It 
also  pleased  Providence  to  let  Caderousse  be  caught.  He  wa* 
given  a bfe-sentence  on  the  ground  of  his  wife  having  incited  him, 
which  I had  related  though  he  did  not  raise  the  please  himself. 

“ I was  set  at  liberty  and  thanks  to  Abbe  Busoni  interesting 
himself  in  me,  I procured  this  situation  with  your  lordship.  I trust 
you  are  content  ? ” 

“ Bertuccio,  I have  ever  found  you  faithful,  honest,  and  deserv- 
ing. One  fault  I find  with  you,  and  that  is,  your  not  having  placed 
sufficient  confidence  in  me.  How  comes  it,  that  having  both  a 
sister  and  an  adopted  son,  you  have  never  spoken  to  me  of 

either?  ” “Alas!  I have  still  to  recount  the  most  distressing 

period  of  my  life.  Anxious  as  you  may  suppose  I was  to  behold 
and  comfort  my  dear  sister,  I lost  no  time  in  hastening  to  Corsica, 
but  when  I arrived  at  Rogliano  I found  a house  of  mourning  and 
of  desolation,  the  consequences  of  a scene  so  horrible  that  the 
neighbors  remember  and  speak  of  it  to  this  day.  Acting  by  my 
advice,  my  poor  sister  had  refused  to  comply  with  the  unreasona- 
ble demands  of  Benedetto. 

“ With  a gang  of  his  fellows,  he  came  in  and  to  extort  money 
from  her,  roasted  the  soles  of  her  feet ; her  clothes  caught  fire  and 
the  ruffians  fled,  leaving  her  to  her  dreadful  doom  in  the  fired  cot- 
tage. They  took  away  all  portable  articles,  and  I have  heard  no 
more  of  the  villain.’* 

“ And  in  what  light  did  you  view  the  tragical  occurrence  ?”  in- 
quired Monte-Cristo. 

“As  a punishment  for  the  crime  I had  committed,”  answered 
Bertuccio. 

“ Oh,  those  Villeforts  are  an  accursed  race  ! ” “ Truly  they 

are/*  murmured  the  count,  with  a most  singular  expression. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

AN  UNLIMITED  ACCOUNT. 

That  same  evening,  upon  reaching  his  abode  in  the  Champs 
Elysees,  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  went  over  the  whole  building 
with  the  air  of  one  long  acquainted  with  each  nook  or  corner.  Nor, 
although  preceding  the  party,  did  he  once  mistake  one  door  for 
another,  or  commit  the  smallest  error  when  choosing  any  parties 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR/STO. 


20J 

;!4*  corridor  or  staircase  to  conduct  him  to  a place  or  suite  of  rooms 
fie  desired  to  visit.  Ali  was  his  principal  attendant  during  the 
somewhat  late  hour  of  his  survey.  Having  given  various  orders 
to  Bertuccio  relative  to  the  improvements  and  alterations  he  de- 
sired to  make  in  the  house,  the  count,  drawing  out  his  watch,  said 
to  the  attentive  Nubian,  **  It  is  half-past  eleven  o’clock  ; Haydee 
will  not  be  long  ere  she  arrives.  Have  the  French  attendants  been 
summoned  to  await  her  coming?”  Ali  extended  his  hands  to- 
wards the  apartments  destined  for  the  fair  Greek,  which  were  at  a 
distance  from  the  habitable  part  of  the  dwelling,  and  so  effectually 
concealed,  by  means  of  a tapestried  entrance,  that  it  would  have 
puzzled  the  most  curious  to  have  divined  that  beyond  that  spot  lay 
hid  a suite  of  rooms  fitted  up  with  a rich  magnificence  worthy  of 
the  lovely  being  who  was  to  tenant  them. 

Just  at  that  moment  voices  were  heard  hailing  the  concierge. 
The  gate  opened,  a carriage  rolled  down  the  avenue,  and  stopped 
at  the  flight  of  steps  leading  to  the  house.  The  count  hastily  de- 
scended, and  presented  himself  at  the  already  opened  carriage- 
door  to  assist  a young  female,  completely  enveloped  in  a mantle 
of  green  and  gold,  to  alight.  The  female  raised  the  hand  extended 
toward  her  to  her  lips,  and  kissed  it  with  a mixture  of  love  and 
respect.  Some  few  words  passed  between  them  in  that  sonorous 
language  in  which  Homer  makes  his  gods  converse.  The  female 
spoke  with  an  expression  of  deep  tenderness,  while  the  count  re- 
plied with  an  air  of  gentle  gravity.  Preceded  by  Ali,  who  carried 
a rose-colored  light  in  his  hand,  the  female,  who  was  no  other  than 
the  lovely  Greek  who  had  been  Monte-Cristo’s  companion  in  Italy, 
was  conducted  to  her  apartments,  while  the  count  retired  to  the 
pavilion  reserved  for  himself.  In  another  hour  every  light  in  the 
house  was  extinguished,  and  it  might  have  been  thought  that  ah 
Us  inmates  slept. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

UNLIMITED  CREDIT. 

About  two  o’clock  the  following  day  a carriage,  drawn  by  a pair 
of  magnificent  English  horses,  stopped  at  the  door  of  Monte- 
Cristo,  and  a person  dressed  in  a blue  coat,  with  buttons  of  a sim- 
ilar color,  a white  waistcoat,  over  which  was  displayed  a massive 
gold  chain,  brown  pants,  and  a quantity  of  black  hair  descending 
so  low  over  his  eyebrows  as  to  leave  it  doubtful  whether  it  were 
not  artificial,  so  little  did  its  jetty  glossiness  assimilate  with  the  deep 
wrinkles  stamped  on  his  features — a person,  in  a word,  who,  al- 
though evidently  past  fifty,  desired  to  be  taken  for  not  more  than 
forty,  bent  forwards  from  the  carriage-door,  on  the  panels  of  which 


208  the  count  of  monte  cristo . 


>ire re  emblazoned  the  armorial  bearings  of  a baron,  and  directed 
his  groom  to  inquire  at  the  porter’s  lodge  whether  the  Count  oi 
Monte-Cristo  resided  there,  and  if  he  were  within.  While  waiting, 
the  occupant  of  the  carriage  surveyed  the  house,  the  garden  so 
far  as  he  could  distinguish  it,  and  the  livery  of  the  servants  who 
passed  to  and  fro,  with  an  attention  so  close  as  to  be  somewhat 
impertinent.  The  glance  of  this  individual  was  keen,  but  evincing 
rather  cunning  than  intelligence  ; his  lips  were  straight,  and  so 
thin  that,  as  they  closed,  they  were  compressed  within  the  mouth  ; 
his  cheek-bones  were  broad  and  projecting,  a never-failing  proof 
of  audacity  and  craftiness  ; while  the  flatness  of  his  forehead,  and 
the  enlargement  of  the  back  of  his  skull,  which  rose  much  higher 
than  his  large  and  vulgarly-shaped  ears,  combined  to  form  a phys- 
iognomy anything  but  prepossessing,  save  in  the  eyes  of  such  as 
considered  that  the  owner  of  so  splendid  an  equipage  must  needs 
be  all  that  was  admirable  and  enviable,  more  especially  when  they 
gazed  on  the  enormous  diamond  that  glittered  in  his  shirt,  and  the 
red  riband  that  depended  from  his  button-hole. 

The  groom,  in  obedience  to  his  orders,  tapped  at  the  window  of 
the  janitor’s  lodge,  saying,  “Pray,  does  not  the  Count  of  Monte- 

Cristo  live  here  ? ” “ His  excellency  does  reside  here,”  replied 

the  concierge  ; “ but ” added  he,  glancing  an  inquiring  look 

at  Ali.  Ali  returned  a sign  in  the  negative.  “ But  what  ? ” asked 
the  groom. 

“ His  excellency  does  not  receive  visitors  to-day.” “Then 

take  my  master’s  card.  You’ll  see  who  master  is — Baron 
Danglars ! Be  sure  to  give  the  card  to  the  count,  and  say  that, 
although  in  haste  to  attend  the  Chamber,  my  master  came  out  of 
his  way  to  have  the  honor  of  calling  upon  him.” 

“I  never  speak  to  his  excellency,”  replied  the  porter;  “the 
footman  will  carry  your  message.”  The  groom  returned  to  the 
carriage.  “Well?”  asked  Danglars.  The  man,  somewhat 
crestfallen  by  the  rebuke  he  had  received,  detailed  to  his  master 
all  that  had  passed.  “ Bless  me  ! ” murmured  Baron  Danglars, 
“this  must  surely  be  a prince  instead  of  a count  by  their  styling 
him  4 excellency,’  and  only  venturing  to  address  him  by  the 
medium  of  his  valet-de-chambre.  However,  it  does  not  signify  ; 
he  has  a letter  of  credit  on  me,  so  I must  see  him  when  he  requires 
his  money.” 

Then,  throwing  himself  back  in  his  carriage,  Danglars  called 
out  to  his  coachman,  in  a voice  that  might  be  heard  across  the 
road,  “ To  the  House!  ” 

Apprised  in  time  of  the  visit  paid  him,  Monte-Cristo  had,  from 
behind  the  blinds  of  his  pavilion,  as  minutely  observed  the  baron 
by  means  of  an  excellent  spy-glass  as  Danglars  himself  had  scru- 
tinized the  house,  garden,  and  servants.  “ That  fellow  has  a de- 
cidedly bad  countenance,”  said  the  count,  in  a tone  of  disgust,  as 
he  shut  up  his  glass  into  its  ivory  case.  “How  comes  it  that  all 


• THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


209 


do  not  retreat  in  aversion  at  sight  of  that  flat,  receding,  serpent- 
like  forehead,  round,  vulture-shaped  head,  and  sharp-hooked  nose, 
like  the  beak  of  a buzzard?  Ali ! ” cried  he,  striking  at  the  same 
time  on  the  brazen  gong.  Ali  appeared.  44  Summon  Bertuccio  1 >! 
said  the  count.  Almost  immediately  Bertuccio  entered  the  apart- 
ment. 44  Did  your  excellency  desire  to  see  me?”  inquired  he. 
“ I did,”  replied  the  count.  44  You  no  doubt  observed  the  horses 

standing  a few  minutes  since  at  the  door  ? ” 44  Certainly,  your 

excellency  : I noticed  them  for  their  remarkable  beauty.” 

44  Then  how  comes  it,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  with  a frown,  44  that, 
when  I desired  you  to  purchase  for  me  the  finest  pair  of  horses  to 
be  found  in  Paris,  you  permitted  so  splendid  a couple  as  those  I 
allude  to  be  in  the  possession  of  any  one  but  myself?”  44  Per- 
mit me  to  assure  your  excellency,”  said  Bertuccio,  44  that  the 
horses  you  speak  of  were  not  to  be  sold  when  I purchased  yours.” 
Monte-Cristo  shrugged  up  his  shoulders.  44  It  seems,”  said  he, 
44  that  you  have  yet  to  learn  that  all  things  are  to  be  sold  to  such 
as  care  to  pay  the  price.” 

44  My  lord  is  not,  perhaps,  aware  that  M.  Danglars  gave  16,000 
francs  for  his  horses  ? ” 

44  Very  well ! then  offer  him  double  that  sum  : a banker  never 
loses  an  opportunity  of  doubling  his  capital.” 

44  Is  your  excellency  really  in  earnest?”  inquired  the  steward. 
Monte-Cristo  regarded  the  person  who  durst  presume  to  doubt  his 
words  with  the  look  of  one  equally  surprised  and  displeased.  44 1 
have  to  pay  a visit  this  evening,”  replied  he.  44  I desire  that  these 
horses,  with  completely  new  harness,  may  be  at  the  door  with  my 
carriage.”  Bertuccio  bowed,  and  was  about  to  retire  ; but  when 
he  reached  the  door,  he  paused,  and  then  said,  44  At  what  o’clock 
does  your  excellency  wish  the  carriage  and  horses  ready?” 

44  At  five  o’clock,”  replied  the  count. 

At  the  stroke  of  five,  the  steward  entered. 

44  My  horses  ! ” said  Monte-Cristo. 

44  They  are  at  the  door  harnessed  to  the  carriage  as  your  excel’ 
lency  desired.  Does  my  lord  wish  me  to  accompany  him  ? ” 

44  No,  the  coachman,  Ali,  and  Baptistin  will  be  sufficient  without 
you.”  The  count  descended  to  the  door  of  his  mansion,  and  beheld 
his  carriage  drawn  by  the  very  pair  of  horses  he  had  so  much  ad- 
mired in  the  morning  as  the  property  of  Danglars.  As  he  passed 
them  he  said, — 44  They  are  extremely  handsome  certainly,  and  you 
have  done  well  to  purchase  them,  although  you  were  somewhat 
remiss  not  to  have  procured  them  sooner.” 

“Indeed,  your  excellency,  I had  very  considerable  difficulty  in 
obtaining  them,  and,  as  it  is,  they  have  cost  an  enormous  price.” 

44  Does  the  sum  you  gave  for  them  make  the  animals  less  beau* 
tiful?  ” inquired  the  count,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 

44  Nay,  if  your  excellency  is  satisfied,  all  is  as  I could  wish 
St.  Whither  does  my  lord  desire  to  be  driven  ? ’ * 

14 


2lO 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


“ To  the  residence  of  Baron  Danglars.” 

The  count  descended  the  terrace  steps,  and  sprang  into  his  car- 
riage, which,  drawn  by  the  beautiful  animals  so  expensively  pur- 
chased, was  whirled  along  with  incredible  swiftness,  and  stopped 
only  before  the  hotel  of  the  banker.  Danglars  was  engaged  at 
that  moment,  presiding  over  a railway  committee.  But  the  meet- 
ing was  nearly  concluded  when  the  name  of  his  visitor  was  an- 
nounced. As  the  count’s  title  sounded  on  his  ear  he  rose,  and 
addressing  his  colleagues,  many  of  whom  were  members  of  either 
chamber,  he  said, — “Gentlemen,  I must  pray  you  to  excuse  my 
quitting  you  thus  ; but  a most  ridiculous  circumstance  has  occur- 
red, which  is  this, — Thomson  and  French,  the  bankers  at  Rome, 
have  sent  to  me  a certain  individual  calling  himself  the  Count  of 
Monte-Cristo,  who  is  desirous  of  opening  an  account  with  me  to 
any  amount  he  pleases.  I confess  this  is  the  drollest  thing  I have 
ever  met  with  in  the  course  of  my  extensive  foreign  transactions,, 
and  you  may  readily  suppose  it  has  greatly  roused  my  curiosity ; 
indeed,  so  much  did  I long  to  see  the  bearer  of  so  unprecedented 
an  order  for  an  unlimited  credit,  that  I took  the  trouble  this  morn- 
ing to  call  on  the  pretended  count,  for  his  title  is  a mere  fiction — 
of  that  I am  persuaded.  We  all  know  counts  nowadays  are  not 
famous  for  their  riches.  But,  would  you  believe,  upon  arriving  at 
the  residence  of  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo,  I was  very  coolly  in- 
formed * He  did  not  receive  visitors  that  day  ! ' Upon  my  word, 
such  airs  are  riduculous,  and  befitting  only  some  great  millionaire 
or  a capricious  beauty.  I made  inquiries,  and  found  that  the 
house  where  the  said  count  resides  in  the  Champs  Elysees  is  his 
own  property,  and  certainly  it  was  very  decently  kept  up  and  ar- 
ranged, as  far  as  I could  judge  from  the  gardens  and  exterior  of 
the  hotel.  But/’  pursued  Danglars,  with  one  of  his  sinister  smiles, 
“ an  order  for  unlimited  credit  calls  for  something  like  caution  on 
the  part  of  the  banker  to  whom  that  order  is  given.  These  facts 
stated,  I will  freely  confess  I am  very  anxious  to  see  the  individual 
just  now  announced.  I suspect  a hoax  is  intended,  but  the  good 
folks  who  thought  fit  to  play  it  off  on  me  knew  but  little  whom  they 
had  to  deal  with.  Well!  well!  we  shall  see.  ‘They  laugh  best 
who  laugh  last ! ’ M 

Having  delivered  himself  of  this  pompous  speech,  uttered  with  a 
degree  of  energy  that  left  the  baron  almost  out  of  breath,  he  bowed 
to  the  assembled  party  and  withdrew  to  his  drawing-room,  whose 
sumptuous  fittings-up  of  white  and  gold  had  caused  a great  and 
admiring  sensation.  It  was  to  this  apartment  he  had  desired  his 
guest  to  be  shown,  fully  reckoning  upon  the  overwhelming  effect 
so  dazzling  a coup  d' ceil  would  produce.  He  found  the  count 
standing  before  some  copies  that  had  been  passed  off  to  the  banker 
as  originals  ; but  which,  copies  of  the  paintings  of  those  great 
masters  as  they  w*ere,  seemed  to  feel  their  degradation  in  being 
brought  into  juxtaposition  with  the  gaudy  gilding  that  covered  the 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR/STO. 


2l\ 

ceiling.  The  count  turned  round  as  he  heard  the  entrance  of 
Danglars  into  the  room.  With  a slight  inclination  of  the  head, 
Danglars  signed  to  the  count  to  be  seated,  pointing  significantly 
to  a gilded  arm-chair,  covered  with  white  satin  embroidered  with 
gold.  The  count  obeyed.  “ I have  the  honor,  I presume,  of  ad- 
dressing M.  de  Monte-Cristo.” 

The  count  bowed.  “ And  I of  speaking  to  the  Baron  Danglars, 
Chevalier  of  the  Legion  d’Honneur,  and  Member  of  the  Chamber 
of  Deputies  ? ” 

With  an  air  of  extreme  gravity,  Monte-Cristo  slowly  enumerated 
the  various  titles  engraved  on  the  card  left  at  his  h&tel  by  the 
baron. 

Danglars  felt  all  the  irony  contained  in  the  address  of  his  visitor. 
For  a minute  or  two  he  compressed  his  lips  as  though  seeking  to 
conquer  his  rage  ere  he  trusted  himself  to  speak.  Then,  turning 
to  his  visitor,  he  said, — “ You  will,  I trust,  excuse  my  not  having 
called  you  by  your  title  when  I first  addressed  you,  but  you  are 
aware  we  are  living  under  a popular  form  of  government,  and  that 
I am  myself  a representative  of  the  liberties  of  the  people.” 

“So  much  so,”  replied  Monte-Cristo,  “that  while  preserving 
the  habit  of  styling  yourself  baron,  you  have  deemed  it  advisable 
to  lay  aside  that  of  calling  others  by  their  titles.” 

“Upon  my  word,”  said  Danglars,  with  affected  carelessness, 
“ I attach  no  sort  of  value  to  such  empty  distinctions ; but  the  fact 
is,  I was  made  Laron,  and  also  Chevalier  of  the  Legion  d’Honneur 
in  consequence  of  some  services  I had  rendered  government, 
but ” 

“You  have  abdicated  your  titles  after  the  example  set  you  by 
Montmorency  and  Lafayette  ? Well,  you  cannot  possibly  choose 
more  noble  models  for  your  conduct.” 

“Why,”  replied  Danglars,  “ I do  not  mean  to  say  I have  alto- 
gether laid  aside  my  titles  ; with  the  servants,  for  instance — there 
I think  it  right  to  preserve  my  rank  with  all  its  outward  forms.” 

“I  see  : by  your  domestics  you  are  * my  lord,’  ' the  Baron  ! * 
the  journalists  of  the  day  style  you  * monsieur ! * while  your  con- 
stituents term  you  * citizen.’  ” Again  Danglars  bit  his  lips  with 
baffled  spite  ; he  saw  well  enough  that  he  was  no  match  for 
Monte-Cristo  in  an  argument  of  this  sort,  and  he  therefore  hastened 
to  turn  to  subjects  more  familiar  to  him,  and  calculated  on  having 
all  the  advantages  on  his  side. 

“Permit  me  to  inform  you,  Count,”  said  he,  bowing,  “that  I 
have  received  a letter  of  advice  from  Thomson  and  French,  of 
Rome.” 

“ I am  glad  to  hear  it,  Baron,  for  I must  claim  the  privilege 
of  so  addressing  you  as  well  as  your  servants  ; I have  acquired 
the  bad  habit  of  calling  persons  by  their  style  and  title  from  liv- 
ing in  a country  where  barons  are  still  met  with,  simply  because 
persons  are  neve*  suddenly  elevated  t Q $ rank  which  is  possessed 


212 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


only  in  right  of  ancestry.  But  as  regards  the  letter  of  advice,  1 
am  charmed  to  find  it  has  reached  you  ; that  will  spare  me  the 
troublesome  ?md  disagreeable  task  of  coming  to  you  for  money 
myself.  You  have  received  a regular  letter  of  advice,  therefore 
my  cheques  will  be  duly  honored,  and  we  shall  neither  of  us 
have  to  go  out  of  our  way  in  the  transaction.” 

“ There  is  one  slight  difficulty,”  said  Danglars,  “ and  that  con- 
sists in  my  not  precisely  comprehending  the  letter  itself.  Well, 
this  letter  gives  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  unlimited  credit  on  our 
house.” 

“ And  what  is  there  that  requires  explaining  in  that  simple  fact, 
may  I ask,  Baron  ? ’ * 

“Merely  the  term  unlimited—  nothing  else,  certainly.” “ Is 

not  that  word  known  in  France?  Is  it  possible  that  Thomson 
and  French  are  not  looked  upon  as  safe  and  solvent  bankers? 
Pray  tell  me  what  you  think,  Baron,  for  I feel  uneasy,  I can  as- 
sure you,  having  some  considerable  property  in  their  hands.” 

“Thomson  and  French  are  bankers  of  the  highest  repute,”  re- 
plied Danglars,  with  an  almost  mocking  smile  ; “ and  it  was  not 
of  their  solvency  or  capability  I spoke,  but  of  the  word  unlimitedt 
which,  in  financial  affairs,  is  so  extremely  vague  a term — that — 
Jhat ’ ’ 

“In  fact,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  “that  its  sense  is  also  without 
limitation.” 

“Precisely  what  I was  about  to  say,”  cried  Danglars.  “Now 
what  is  vague  is  doubtful ; and,  says  the  wise  man,  1 where  there 
is  doubt  there  is  danger  ! * ” 

“Meaning  to  say,”  rejoined  Monte-Cristo,  “that  however 
Thomson  and  French  may  be  inclined  to  commit  acts  of  impru- 
dence and  folly,  Baron  Danglars  is  not  disposed  to  follow  their  ex- 
ample.” 

“How  so?” 

“ Simply  thu9  : the  banking-house  of  Thomson  and  Co.  set  no 
bounds  to  their  engagements,  while  M.  Danglars’  has  its  limits  ; 
truly  he  is  wise  as  the  sage  whose  prudent  apophthegm  he  quoted 
but  just  now.” 

“ Sir ! ” replied  the  banker,  drawing  himself  up  with  a haughty 
air,  “ the  amount  of  my  capital,  or  the  extent  and  solvency  of  my 
engagements,  has  never  yet  been  questioned.” 

“It  seems,  then,  reserved  for  me,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  coldly, 
“ to  be  the  first  to  do  so.” 

“ By  what  right,  sir?  ” 

“ By  right  of  the  objections  you  have  raised,  and  the  explana- 
tions you  have  demanded,  which  certainly  imply  considerable  dis- 
trust on  your  part,  either  of  yourself  or  me — the  former  most  prob- 
ably.” Again  did  Danglars,  by  a forcible  effort,  restrain  himself 
from  betraying  the  vindictive  passions  which  possessed  his  mind  at 
this  second  defeat  by  an  adversary  who  calmly  fought  him  with 


THE  COUNT  OF  MuNTE  CRISTO. 


2X3 


his  own  weapons:  his  forced  politeness  sat  awkwardly  upon  him, 
while  his  splenetic  rage,  although  essaying  to  veil  itself  under  a 
playful,  jesting  manner,  approached  at  times  almost  to  imperti- 
nence. Monte-Cristo,  on  the  contrary,  preserved  a graceful 
suavity  of  demeanor,  aided  by  a certain  degree  of  simplicity  he 
could  assume  at  pleasure,  and  thus,  calm  and  wholly  at  his  ease* 
possessed  an  infinite  advantage  over  his  irascible  companion. 

41  Well,  sir,”  resumed  Danglars,  after  a brief  silence,  41 1 will 
endeavor  to  make  myself  understood,  by  requesting  you  to  inform 
me  for  what  sum  you  propose  to  draw  upon  me?” 

44  Why,  truly,”  replied  Monte-Cristo,  determined  not  to  lose  an 
inch  of  the  ground  he  had  gained,  44  my  reason  for  desiring  an 
4 unlimited  ' credit  was  precisely  because  I did  not  know  what 
money  I might  expend.” 

The  banker  now  thought  it  his  turn  to  show  off,  and  make  a dis- 
play of  wealth  and  consequence.  Flinging  himself  back  there- 
fore in  his  armchair,  he  said,  with  an  arrogant  and  purse-proud 
air, — 44  Let  me  beg  of  you  not  to  hesitate  in  naming  your  wishes; 
should  you  be  hard  pressed,  the  concern,  of  which  I am  the  head, 
would  not  scruple  to  accommodate  you  to  the  amount  of  a million.” 

44  A million  ! ” retorted  the  count ; 44  and  what  use  can  you  pos- 
sibly suppose  so  pitiful  a sum  would  be  to  me?  My  dear  sir,  if  a 
trifle  like  that  could  suffice  me,  I should  never  have  given  myself 
the  trouble  of  opening  an  account  for  so  contemptible  an  amount. 
A million  ! Excuse  my  smiling  when  you  speak  of  a sum  I am  in 
the  habit  of  carrying  in  my  pocket-book  or  dressing-case.”  And 
with  these  words  Monte-Cristo  took  from  his  pocket  a small  case 
containing  his  visiting-cards,  and  drew  forth  two  orders  on  the 
treasury  for  500,000  francs  each,  payable  at  sight  to  the  bearer.  A 
man  like  Danglars  was  wholly  inaccessible  to  any  gentler  method 
of  correction  ; his  upstart  arrogance,  his  ostentatious  vulgarity, 
were  only  assailable  by  blows  dealt  with  the  force  and  vigor  of  the 
present  shock ; its  effect  on  the  banker  was  perfectly  stunning ; 
and  as  though  scarcely  venturing  to  credit  his  senses,  he  continued 
gazing  from  the  paper  to  the  count  with  a confused  and  mystified 
air. 

44  Come,  come,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  44  confess  honestly  that  you 
have  not  perfect  confidence  in  the  responsibility  of  the  house  of 
Thomson  and  French — there  is  nothing  very  strange  in  your  ex- 
ercising what  seems  to  you  a necessary  caution  ; however,  foresee- 
ing that  such  might  be  the  case,  I determined,  spite  of  my  ignor- 
ance in  such  matters,  to  be  provided  with  the  means  of  banishing 
all  scruples  from  your  mind,  and  at  the  same  time  leaving  you 
quite  at  liberty  to  act  as  you  pleased  in  the  affair.  See,  here  are 
two  similar  letters  to  that  you  have  yourself  received  ; the  one 
from  the  house  of  Arstein  and  Eskeles,  of  Vienna,  to  Baron  de 
Rothschild  ; the  other  drawn  from  Baring,  of  London,  to  M.  Laf- 
fttte.  Now,  sir,  you  have  but  to  say  the  word,  and  I will  spare  vov 


214 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


all  uneasiness  and  alarm  on  the  subject,  by  presenting  my  letter  o\ 
credit  at  one  or  other  of  the  establishments  I have  named.'*  The 
blow  had  struck  home,  and  Danglars  was  entirely  vanquished ; 
with  a trembling  hand  he  took  the  two  letters  from  Vienna  and 
Lcadon  from  the  count,  who  held  them  carelessly  between  his 
finger  and  thumb,  as  though  to  him  they  were  mere  every-day 
matters,  to  wrhich  he  attached  but  very  little  interest.  Having 
carefully  perused  the  documents  in  question,  the  banker  pro- 
ceeded to  ascertain  the  genuineness  of  the  signatures,  and  this  he 
did  with  a scrutiny  so  severe  as  might  have  appeared  insulting  to 
the  count,  had  it  not  suited  his  present  purpose  to  mislead  the 
banker  in  every  respect.  “ Well,  sir,”  said  Danglars,  rising, 
after  he  had  well  convinced  himself  of  the  authenticity  of  the 
documents  he  held,  and  bowing,  as  though  in  adoration  of  a man, 
the  thrice  happy  possessor  of  as  many  orders  for  unlimited  credit 
on  the  three  principal  banks  of  Paris,  “you  have  three  signatures 
worth  untold  wealth  ; although  your  conversation  and  vouchers 
put  an  end  to  all  mistrust  in  the  affair,  you  must  pardon  me, 
Count,  for  confessing  the  most  extreme  astonishment.” 

“Nay,  nay,”  answered  Monte-Cristo,  with  the  easiest  and  most 
gentlemanly  air  imaginable,  “ ’tis  not  for  such  trifling  sums  as 
these  to  startle  or  astonish  the  banking-house  of  Baron  Danglars. 
Then,  as  all  is  settled  as  to  forms  between  us,  I will  thank  you  to 
send  a supply  of  money  to  me  to-morrow.” 

“ By  all  means.  What  sum  do  you  want  ? ” 

“Why,”  replied  Monte-Cristo,  now  that  we  have  come  to  so 
clear  an  understanding,  and  that  all  distrust  and  suspicion  are  laid 
at  rest,  we  may  as  well  fix  a sum  as  the  probable  expenditure  of 

the  first  year  suppose  we  say  six  millions  to ” 

“Six  millions!”  gasped  out  Danglars — “certainly,  whatever 
you  please.” 

“ Then,  if  I should  require  more,”  continued  Monte-Cristo,  in  a 
careless,  indifferent  manner,  “ why,  of  course,  I should  draw 
upon  you  ; but  my  present  intention  is  not  to  remain  in  France 
more  than  a year,  and  during  that  period  I scarcely  think  I shall 
exceed  the  sum  I mentioned.  However,  we  shall  see.” 

“ The  money  you  desire  shall  be  at  your  house  by  ten  o'clock 
tc -morrow  morning,  my  lord,”  replied  Danglars.  “ How  would 

y u like  to  have  it?  in  gold,  silver,  or  notes  ? ” “ Half  in  gold, 

a id  the  other  half  in  bank-notes,  if  you  please,”  said  the  count, 
rising  from  his  seat. 

“I  must  confess  to  you,”  said  Danglars,  “that  I have  hitherto 
imagined  myself  acquainted  with  the  degree  of  fortune  possessed 
by  all  the  rich  individuals  of  Europe,  and  still  wealth  such  as 
yours  has  been  wholly  unknown  to  me.  May  I presume  to  ask 
whether  you  have  long  possessed  it?  ” 

“ It  has  been  in  the  family  a very  long  while,”  returned  Monte- 
Cristo,  “ a treasure  expressly  forbidden  to  be  touched  fora  period. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


215 


during  which  the  compound  interest  has  doubled  the  capital.  The 
period  appointed  by  the  testator  for  the  disposal  of  these  riches  oc« 
curred  only  a short  time  ago ; and  they  have  only  been  employed 
by  me  within  the  last  few  years.  Your  ignorance  on  the  subject, 
therefore,  is  easily  accounted  for.  However,  you  will  be  better 
informed  as  to  me  and  my  possessions  ere  long.”  And  the  count, 
while  pronouncing  these  latter  words,  accompanied  them  with  one? 
of  those  ghastly  smiles  that  used  to  strike  terror  into  poor  d’Epinay. 

“With  your  tastes,  and  means  of  gratifying  them,”  continued 
Danglars,  44  you  will  exhibit  a splendor  that  must  effectually  put 
us  poor  miserable  millionaires  quite  in  the  background.  If  I mis* 
take  not,  you  are  an  admirer  of  paintings,  at  least  I judged  so  from 
the  attention  you  appeared  to  be  bestowing  on  mine  when  I entered 
the  room.  But  perhaps  you  will  prefer  putting  off  your  inspection 
of  my  poor  pictures,  until  another  opportunity,  when  we  shall  be 
better  known  to  each  other.  For  the  present,  I will  confine  my- 
self (if  perfectly  agreeable  to  you)  to  introducing  you  to  Lady 
Danglars — excuse  my  impatience,  but  a person  of  your  wealth  and 
influence  cannot  receive  too  much  attention.”  Monte-Cristo 
bowed,  in  sign  that  he  accepted  the  proferred  honor,  and  the  finan- 
cier immediately  rang  a small  bell,  which  was  answered  by  a serv- 
ant in  a showy  livery.  44  Is  Lady  Danglars  at  home  ? ” inquired 
Danglars. 41  Yes,  my  lord,”  answered  the  man. 

44  And  alone  ? ” 44  No,  my  lord,  her  ladyship  has  visitors.*' 

44  And  who  is  withmadame  ? — M.  D<  bray  ? ” inquired  Danglars, 
with  an  air  of  indulgence  and  good-nature  that  made  Monte-Cristo 
smile,  acquainted  as  he  was  with  the  secrets  of  the  banker’s  do- 
mestic. life. 

“Yes,  my  lord,”  replied  the  servant,  44  M.  Debray  is  with 
madame.”  Danglars  nodded  his  head  ; then,  turning  to  Monte- 
Cristo,  said,  44  M.  Lucien  Debray  is  an  old  friend  of  ours,  and 
private  secretary  to  the  Home  Department.  As  for  my  wife,  I 
must  tell  you,  she  lowered  herself  by  marrying  me,  for  she  be- 
longs to  one  of  the  most  ancient  families  in  France.  Her  maiden 
name  was  De  Services,  and  her  first  husban^  was  Colonel  the 
Marquis  de  Nargonne.” 

44  I have  not  the  honor  of  knowing  Lady  Danglars  ; but  I have 
already  met  M.  Lucien  Debray,  at  the  house  of  M.  de  Morcerf.” 

44  My  lady  is  waiting  to  receive  you,  gentlemen,”  said  the  serv- 
ant, who  had  gone  to  inquire  the  pleasure  of  his  mistress.  4‘  With 
your  permission,”  said  Danglars,  bowing,  44  I will  precede  you,  to 
Show  you  the  way.” 

" By  all  means,”  replied  Monte-Cristo  ; 44 1 follow  you/p 


216 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  GREYS. 

The  baron,  followed  by  the  count,  traversed  a long  suite  of 
apartments,  in  which  the  prevailing  characteristics  were  heavy 
magnificence  and  the  gaudiness  ©f  ostentatious  wealth,  until  he 
reached  the  boudoir,  the  only  one  throughout  the  vast  hotel  in  which 
any  distinctive  taste  prevailed.  The  ornamental  part  of  the  fit- 
tings-up of  Mdme.  Danglars’  boudoir  had  then  been  left  entirely 
to  herself  and  Lucien  Debray.  M.  Danglars,  however,  while  pos- 
sessing a great  admiration  for  the  antique,  as  it  was  understood  dur- 
ing the  time  of  the  Directory,  entertained  the  most  sovereign  con- 
tempt for  the  simple  elegance  of  his  wife’s  favorite  sitting-room, 
where,  by  the  way,  he  was  never  permitted  to  intrude,  unless,  in- 
deed, he  excused  his  own  appearance  by  ushering  in  some  more 
agreeable  visitor  than  himself;  and  even  then  he  had  rather  the 
air  and  manner  of  a person  who  was  himself  introduced,  than  as 
being  the  presenter  of  another,  his  reception  being  either  cordial 
or  frigid,  in  proportion  as  the  individual  who  accompanied  him 
chanced  to  please  or  displease  his  lady  wife. 

As  Danglars  now  entered  he  found  the  lady  (who,  although  past 
the  first  bloom  of  youth,  was  still  strikingly  handsome)  seated  at 
the  piano,  while  Lucien  Debray,  standing  before  a small  work- 
table, was  turning  over  an  album.  Lucien  had  found  time*  pre- 
paratory to  the  count’s  arrival,  to  relate  many  particulars  respect- 
ing him  to  Lady  Danglars.  It  will  be  remembered  that  Monte- 
Cristo  had  made  a lively  impression  on  the  minds  of  all  the  party 
at  the  breakfast  given  by  Morcerf ; consequently  the  description 
given  by  Lucien  to  the  baroness  bore  the  highly-colored  tinge  of 
his  own  heated  imagination.  A most  gracious  welcome  and  un- 
usual smile  were  bestowed  on  M.  Danglars  ; the  count,  in  return 
for  his  gentlemanly  bow,  received  a formal  though  graceful  court*' 
esy,  while  Lucien  exchanged  with  the  count  a sort  of  distant  recog- 
nition, and  with  Danglars  a free  and  easy  nod. 

“ Baroness,”  said  Danglars,  give  me  leave  to  present  to  you  the 
Count  of  Monte-Cristo,  most  warmly  recommended  t©  me  by  my 
correspondents  at  Rome.  I need  but  mention  one  fact  to  make  all 
the  ladies  in  Paris  court  his  notice,  and  that  is,  that  the  noble  in, 
dividual  before  you  has  come  to  take  up  his  abode  in  our  fine 
capital  for  one  year,  during  which  brief  period  he  proposes  to  spend 
six  millions  of  money — think  of  that ! It  sounds  very  much  like 
an  announcement  of  balls,  fetes,  dinners,  and  pic-nic  parties,  in 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


317 

all  of  which  I trust  the  Count  will  remember  us,  as  he  may  depend 
upon  it  we  shall  him,  in  all  the  entertainments  we  may  give,  be 
they  great  or  small.”  Spite  of  the  gross  flattery  and  coarseness 
of  this  address,  Lady  Danglars  could  not  forbear  gazing  with  con- 
siderable interest  on  a man  who  had  selected  Paris  for  the 
scene  of  his  princely  extravagance. 

•*  You  have  selected  a most  unfavorable  moment  for  your  first 
visit  to  our  city.  Paris  is  a horrid  place  in  summer!  Balls, 
parties,  and  fetes  are  over  ; the  Italian  opera  is  in  London  ; the 
French  opera  everywhere  except  in  Paris.  As  for  the  Theatre 
Frangais  you  know,  of  course,  that  it  is  nowhere.  The  only 
amusements  left  us  are  the  indifferent  races  held  in  the  Champ  de 
Mars  and  Satory.  Do  you  propose  entering  any  horses  at  either 
of  these  races  ? ” 

“ I assure  you,’*  replied  Monte-Cristo,  “ my  present  intentions 
are  to  do  whatever  will  tend  to  render  my  sojourn  in  Paris  most 
agreeable  to  myself  and  others.  I only  pray  I may  find  some 
kind,  pitying  friend  who  will  commiserate  my  lamentable  ignor- 
ance of  such  matters,  and  instruct  me  rightly  to  understand  the 
habits  and  etiquette  of  this  polished  city.” 

“ Are  you  fond  of  horses  ? ” 

“ I have  passed  a considerable  part  of  my  life  in  the  East, 
madam,  and  you  are  doubtless  aware  that  the  inhabitants  of  those 
climes  value  only  two  things — the  fine  breeding  of  their  horses 

and  the  beauty  of  their  females.” “ Nay,”  said  the  baroness, 

“ it  would  have  been  somewhat  more  gallant  to  have  placed  the 
ladies  before  the  animals.” 

“You  see,  madam,  how  rightly  I spoke  when  I said  I required 
a preceptor  to  guide  me  in  all  my  sayings  and  doings  here.”  At 
this  instant  the  favorite  attendant  of  Danglars  entered  the  bou- 
doir ; approaching  her  mistress,  she  spoke  some  words  in  an  under- 
tone. Danglars  turned  very  pale,  then  exclaimed — “ I cannot 
believe  it ; the  thing  is  impossible.” 

“I  assure  you  madam,”  replied  the  woman,  “it  is  even  as  I 
have  said.”  Turning  impatiently  towards  her  husband,  Danglars 
demanded,  “Is  this  true?  That  when  my  coachman  was  about 
to  prepare  my  carriage,  he  discovered  that  the  horses  had  been 
removed  from  the  stables  without  his  knowledge.  I desire  to 
know  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?” 

“ Be  kind  enough,  madam,  to  listen  to  me,”  said  Danglars. 

“ Fear  not  my  listening — ay,  and  attentively,  too  ; for  in  truth, 
1 am  most  curious  to  hear  what  explanation  you  propose  offering 
for  conduct  so  unparalleled.  These  two  gentlemen  shall  decide  be- 
tween us  ; but,  first  I will  state  the  case  to  them.  Gentlemen,” 
continued  the  baroness,  “among  the  ten  horses  in  the  stables  of 
Baron  Danglars,  are  two  that  belong  exclusively  to  me — a pair  of 
the  handsomest  and  most  spirited  creatures  to  be  found  in  Paris. 
But  at  least,  M.  Debray,  I need  not  give  a further  description,  be- 


218 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


cause  to  you  my  beautiful  pair  of  dappled  greys  were  well  Vnown 
Well ! I had  promised  Mdme.  de  Villefort  the  loan  of  my  carriage 
to  drive  to-morrow  to  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  ; but  when  my  coach- 
man goes  to  fetch  the  greys  from  the  stables  they  are  gone — posi- 
tively gone.  No  doubt,  M.  Danglars  has  sacrificed  them  to  the 
selfish  consideration  of  gaining  some  thousands  of  paltry  francs. 
Oh,  how  I hate  and  detest  that  money-grasping  nature  ! Heaven 
defend  me  from  all  the  race  of  mercenary  speculators  ! ” 

“ Madam,”  replied  Danglars,  “ the  horses  were  not  sufficiently 
quiet  for  you ; they  were  scarcely  four  years  old,  and  they  made 
me  extremely  uneasy  on  your  account.” 

“Nonsense!”  retorted  the  baroness;  “you  could  not  have 
entertained  any  alarm  on  the  subject,  because  you  are  perfectly 
well  aware  that  I have  recently  engaged  a coachman  who  is  said 
to  be  the  best  in  Paris.  But,  perhaps,  you  have  disposed  of  the 
coachman  as  well  as  the  horses?  ” 

“ My  dear  love  ! pray,  do  not  say  any  more  about  them,  and  I 
promise  you  another  pair  exactly  like  them  in  appearance,  only 
more  quiet  and  steady.”  The  baroness  shrugged  up  her  shoulders 
with  an  air  of  ineffable  contempt,  while  her  husband,  affecting  not 
to  observe  it,  turned  towards  Monte-Cristo,  and  said — “Upon  my 
word,  my  lord,  I am  quite  sorry  I was  not  sooner  aware  of  your 

establishing  yourself  in  Paris.” “And  wherefore?”  asked  the 

count. 

“ Because  I should  have  liked  to  have  made  you  the  offer  of 
these  horses.  I have  almost  given  them  away,  as  it  is  ; but,  as  I 
before  said,  I was  anxious  to  get  rid  of  them  upon  any  terms. 
They  were  only  fit  for  a young  man  ; not  at  all  calculated  for  a 
person  at  my  time  of  life.” 

“ I am  much  obliged  by  your  kind  intentions  towards  me,”  said 
Monte-Cristo:  “but  this  morning  I purchased  a very  excellent 
pair  of  carriage-horses,  and  I do  not  think  they  were  dear.  There 
they  are.  Come,  M.  Debray,  you  are  a connoisseur,  I believe, 
let  me  have  your  opinion  upon  them.”  As  Debray  walked  to- 
wards the  window,  Danglars  approached  his  wife.  “ I could  not 
tell  you  before  others,”  said  he,  in  a low  tone,  “the  reason  of  my 
parting  with  the  horses  ; but  a most  enormous  price  was  offered 
me  this  morning  for  them.  Some  madman  or  fool,  bent  upon 
ruining  himself  as  fast  as  he  can,  actually  sent  his  steward  to  me 
to  purchase  them  at  any  cost  ; and  the  fact  is,  I have  gained 
16,000  francs  by  the  sale  of  them.  Come,  don’t  look  so  angry, 
and  you  shall  have  4,000  francs  of  the  money  to  do  what  you  like 
with,  and  Eugenie  shall  have  2,000.  There,  what  do  you  think 
aow.of  the  affair?  |Wasn’t  I right  to  part  with  the  horses?” 
Lady  Danglars  surveyed  her  husband  with  a look  of  withering 
contempt. 

“What  do  I see?”  suddenly  exclaimed  Debray.  “ Here  are 
your  horses ! The  very  animals  we  were  speaking  of,  harnessed 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


219 


to  the  count’s  carriage  ! ” “ My  dear,  beautiful  dappled  greys  i ’* 

demanded  the  baroness,  springing  to  the  window.  “ ’Tis  indeed 
they!”  said  she.  Danglars  looked  absolutely  stupified.  “How 
very  singular  !”  cried  Monte-Cristo,  with  well-feigned  astonish- 
ment. Lady  Danglars  whispered  a few  words  in  the  ear  of  Deb- 
ray, who  approached  Monte-Cristo,  saying,  “ The  baroness  wishes 
to  know  what  you  paid  her  husband  for  the  horses.” 

“ I scarcely  know,”  replied  the  count ; “ it  was  a little  surprise 
prepared  for  me  by  my  steward  ; he  knew  how  desirous  I was  of 
meeting  with  precisely  such  a pair  of  horses — and — so  he  bought 
them.  I think,  if  I remember  rightly,  he  hinted  that  he  had  giver? 
somewhere  about  30,000  francs.”  Debray  conveyed  the  count’* 
reply  to  the  baroness.  Poor  Danglars  looked  crestfallen  and  dis< 
comfited  ; he  was  occupied  in  anticipations  of  the  coming  sceno 
between  himself  and  the  baroness,  whose  threatening  looks  and 
frowning  brow,  like  that  of  Olympian  Jove,  predicted  a fearful 
storm.  Debray,  who  perceived  the  gathering  clouds,  and  felt  no 
desire  to  witness  the  explosion  of  Mdme.  Danglars’  rage,  suddenly 
recollected  an  appointment,  which  compelled  him  to  take  his 
leave  ; while  Monte-Cristo,  unwilling  by  prolonging  his  stay  to 
destroy  the  advantages  he  hoped  to  obtain,  made  a farewell  bow 
and  departed,  leaving  Danglars  to  endure  the  angry  reproaches 
of  his  wife. 

Two  hours  afterwards,  Baroness  Danglars  received  a most  flatter- 
ing epistle  from  the  count,  in  which  he  entreated  her  to  receive  back 
her  favorite  “ dappled  grays,”  protesting  that  he  could  not  endure 
the  idea  of  making  his  debut  in  the  Parisian  world  with  the  knowl- 
edge that  his  splendid  equipage  had  been  obtained  at  the  price  of 
a lovely  woman’s  regrets.  The  horses  were  sent  back  wearing  the 
same  harness  they  had  done  in  the  morning  ; the  only  difference 
consisted  in  the  rosettes  worn  on  the  heads  of  the  animals  being 
Adorned  with  a large  diamond  placed  in  the  centre  of  each,  by 
Drder  of  the  count. 

To  Danglars  Monte-Cristo  also  wrote,  requesting  him  to  excuse 
the  whimsical  gift  of  a capricious  millionaire,  and  to  beg  pardon 
for  the  Eastern  fashion  adopted  in  the  return  of  the  horses. 

During  the  evening,  Monte-Cristo  quitted  Paris  for  Auteuil,  ac- 
companied by  Ali.  The  following  day,  about  three  o’clock,  a 
single  blow  struck  on  the  gong  summoned  Ali  to  the  presence  of 
the  count.  “Ali,”  observed  his  master,  as  the  Nubian  entered 
the  chamber,  “ you  have  frequently  explained  to  me  how  more 
than  commonly  skilful  you  are  in  throwing  the  lasso,  have  you 
not?”  Ali  drew  himself  up  proudly,  and  then  returned  a nod. 

“ It  is  well,”  said  Monte-Cristo.  “ Then  listen  to  me.  Ere  long 
a carriage  will  dash  past  here,  drawn  by  the  pair  of  dappled  grey 
horses  you  saw  me  with  yesterday  ; now,  at  the  risk  of  your  own 
life,  you  must  manage  to  stop  those  horses  before  my  door.” 

Ali  descended  to  the  street,  and  marked  a strait  line  on  the 


220 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


pavement  immediately  at  the  entrance  of  the  house,  and  then 
1 pointed  out  the  line  he  had  traced  to  the  count,  who  was  watching 
| him.  The  count  patted  him  gently  on  the  back,  his  usual  mode 
of  praising  Ali,  who,  pleased  and  gratified  with  the  commission  as- 
signed him,  walked  calmly  towards  a projecting  stone  forming  the 
angle  of  the  street  and  house,  and,  seating  himself  thereon,  began 
to  smoke. his  chibouque,  while  Monte-Crista  re-entered  his  dwelling,, 
perfectly  assured  of  the  success  of  his  plan.  Suddenly  a distant 
sound  of  rapidly-advancing  wheels  was  heard,  and  almost  im- 
mediately a carriage  appeared,  drawn  by  a pair  of  wild,  ungovern- 
able horses,  who  rushed  forward  as  though  urged  by  the  fiend 
himself,  while  the  terrified  coachman  strove  in  vain  to  restrain 
their  furious  speed. 

In  the  vehicle  was  a female,  apparently  young,  and  a child  of 
about  seven  or  eight  years  of  age.  Terror  seemed  to  have  de- 
prived them  even  of  the  power  of  uttering  a cry,  and  both  were 
clasped  in  each  other’s  arms,  as  though  determined  .not  to  be 
parted  by  death  itself. 

Then  Ali  knew  the  right  moment  was  come,  and,  throwing  down 
his  chibouque,  he  drew  the  lasso  from  his  pocket,  threw  it  so  skil- 
fully as  to  catch  the  forelegs  of  the  near  horse  in  its  triple  fold, 
suffered  himself  to  be  dragged  on  for  a few  steps,  by  which  time 
the  tightening  of  the  well-cast  lasso  had  so  completely  hampered 
the  furious  animal  as  to  bring  it  to  the  ground,  and  falling  on  the 
pole,  it  snapped,  and  therefore  prevented  the  other  animal  from 
pursuing  its  headlong  way.  Gladly  availing  himself  of  this  op- 
portunity, the  coachman  leaped  from  his  box  ; but  Ali  had 
promptly  seized  the  nostrils  of  the  second  horse,  and  held  them 
in  his  iron  grasp,  till  the  maddened  beast,  snorting  with  pain,  sunk 
beside  his  companion.  All  this  was  achieved  in  much  less  time 
than  is  occupied  in  the  recital.  The  brief  space  had,  however, 
been  sufficient  for  an  individual,  followed  by  a number  of  serv- 
ants, to  rush  from  the  house  before  which  the  accident  had  oc- 
curred, and,  as  the  coachman  opened  the  door  of  the  carriage,  to 
take  from  it  a lady  who  was  convulsively  grasping  the  cushions 
with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  she  pressed  to  her  bosom  her 
young  companion,  who  had  lost  all  consciousness  of  what  was 
passing. 

Monte-Cristo  carried  them  both  to  the  salon,  and  deposited 
them  on  a sofa. 

With  a calm  smile  and  gentle  wave  of  the  hand,  Monte-Cristo 
signed  to  the  distracted  mother  to  lay  aside  her  apprehensions  ; 
then  opening  a casket  that  stood  near,  he  drew  forth  a phial  com- 
posed of  Bohemian  glass,  containing  a liquid  of  the  color  of 
blood,  of  which  he  let  fall  a single  drop  on  the  child’s  lips. 
Scarcely  had  it  reached  them,  ere  the  boy,  though  still  pale  as 
marble,  opened  his  eyes,  and  eagerly  gazed  around  him.  At  this 
unhoped-for  sight,  the  wild  delight  of  the  mother  equalled  her 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


221 


former  despair.  **  Where  am  I ? " exclaimed  she,  when  -*er  first 
raptures  at  her  son’s  recovery  were  past ; “ and  to  whom  am  1 in- 
debted for  so  happy  a termination  to  my  late  dreadful  alarm  ? * * 

“ Madam,"  answered  the  count,  “ you  are  under  the  roof  of 

one  who  esteems  himself  most  fortunate  in  having  been  able  to 
save  you  from  a further  continuance  of  your  sufferings." 

11  My  wretched  curiosity  has  brought  all  this  about,"  pursued 
the  lady.  “All  Paris  rung  with  the  praises  of  Mdme.  Danglars* 
beautiful  horses,  and  I had  the  folly  to  desire  to  know  whether 
they  really  merited  the  high  character  given  of  them." 

“Is  it  possible,"  exclaimed  the  count,  with  well-feigned  as- 
tonishment, “ that  these  horses  belong  to  that  lady  ? ” 

“ They  do,  indeed.  May  I inquire  if  you  are  acquainted  with 
Madame  Danglars?" 

“ I have  that  honor  ; and  my  happiness  at  your  escape  from  the 
danger  that  threatened  you  is  redoubled  by  the  consciousness 
that  I have  been  the  unwilling  and  unintentional  cause  of  all  the 
peril  you  have  incurred.  I yesterday  purchased  these  horses  of 
the  baron  ; but  as  the  baroness  evidently  regretted  parting  with 
them,  I ventured  to  send  them  back  to  her,  with  a request  that 
she  would  gratify  me  by  accepting  them  from  my  hands." 

“ You  are,  then,  doubtless,  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo,  of  whom 
Hermine  has  talked  to  me  so  much?  " 

“ You  have  rightly  guessed,  madam,"  replied  the  count. 

“ And  I am  Madame  Heloise  de  Villefort."  The  count  bowed 
with  the  air  of  a person  who  hears  a name  for  the  first  time.  “ How 
grateful  will  M.  de  Villefort  be  for  all  your  goodness  ; how 
thankfully  will  he  acknowledge  that  to  you  alone  it  is  owing  that 
his  wife  and  child  exist ! Most  certainly,  but  for  the  prompt 
assistance  of  your  intrepid  servant,  this  dear  child  and  myself 
must  both  have  perished." “ Indeed,  I still  shudder  at  the  rec- 

ollection of  the  fearful  danger  you  were  placed  in,  as  well  as 
your  interesting  child." 

“I  trust  you  will  not  object  to  my  offering  a recompense  to 
your  noble-hearted  servant,  proportionate  to  the  service  he  has 
rendered  me  and  mine." 

“ I beseech  you,  madam,"  replied  Monte-Cristo,  “ not  to  spoil 
Ali,  either  by  too  great  praise  or  rewards.  I cannot  allow  him  to 
acquire  the  habit  of  expecting  to  be  recompensed  for  every  trifling 
service  he  may  render.  Ali  is  my  slave,  and  in  saving  your  life 
he  was  but  discharging  his  duty  to  me." 

Mdme.  de  Villefort  made  no  further  reply  : her  mind  was  utterly 
absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  the  singular  individual,  who, 
from  the  first  instant  of  her  beholding  him,  had  made  so  power- 
ful an  impression  on  her.  During  the  evident  preoccupation  of 
Mdme.  de  Villefort,  Monte-Cristo  scrutinized  the  features  and  ap- 
pearance of  the  boy  she  kept  folded  in  her  arms,  lavishing  on  him 
the  most  tender  endearments.  The  child  was  small  for  his  age. 


222 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


and  unnaturally  pale.  A mass  of  straight  black  hair,  defying  all 
attempts  to  train  or  curl  it,  fell  over  his  projecting  forehead,  and 
hung  down  to  his  shoulders,  giving  increased  vivacity  to  eyes  al- 
ready sparkling  with  a youthful  love  of  mischief  and  fondness 
for  every  forbidden  enjoyment.  His  mouth  was  large,  and  the 
lips,  which  had  not  yet  regained  their  color,  were  particularly 
"bin  ; in  fact,  the  deep  and  crafty  look,  forming  the  principal 
character  of  the  child’s  face,  belonged  rather  to  a boy  of  twelve 
\or  fourteen  years  of  age  than  to  one  so  young.  His  first  move- 
/inent  was  to  free  himself  by  a violent  push  from  the  encircling 
arms  of  his  mother,  and  to  rush  forward  to  the  casket  from 
whence  the  count  had  taken  the  phial  of  elixir,  then,  without  ask- 
ing permission  of  any  one,  he  proceeded,  in  all  the  wilfulness  of  a 
spoiled  child  unaccustomed  to  restrain  either  whims  of  caprices, 
to  pull  the  corks  out  of  all  the  bottles  in  the  casket. 

“Touch  nothing,  my  little  friend,”  cried  the  count,  eagerly  ; 
“ some  of  those  liquids  are  not  only  dangerous  to  taste,  but  even  to 
smell.” 

Mdme.  de  Villcfort  became  very  pale,  and,  seizing  her  son’s 
arm,  drew  him  anxiously  toward  her ; but,  once  satisfied  of  his 
safety,  she  also  cast  a brief  but  expressive  glance  on  the  casket, 
which  was  not  lost  upon  the  count. 

“Will  you  permit  me  to  inquire,”  said  Mdme.  de  Villefort, 
41  whether  you  usually  reside  here  ? ” 

“No,  I do  not,”  replied  Monte-Cristo;  “it  is  a small  place  l 
have  purchased  quite  lately.  My  place  of  abode  is  No.  30, 
Avenue  des  Champs  Elysees  ; but  I am  delighted  to  see  your 
countenance  seems  expressive  of  a perfect  return  to  tranquillity. 
You  have  quite  recovered  from  your  fright,  and  are,  no  doubt, 
desirous  of  returning  home.  Anticipating  your  wishes,  I have 
desired  the  same  horses  you  came  with  to  be  put  to  one  of 
my  carriages,  and  Ali,  he  whom  you  think  ugly,”  continued  he, 
addressing  the  boy  with  a smiling  air,  “ will  have  the  honor 
of  driving  you  home,  while  your  coachman  remains  here 
to  attend  to  the  necessary  repairs  of  your  caleche.  Directly 
that  important  business  is  concluded,  I will  have  a couple  of  my 
own  horses  harnessed  to  convey  it  direct  to  Mdme.  Danglars.” 

“ I dare  not  return  with  those  dreadful  horses,”  said  Mdme. 
de  Villefort. 

“ You  will  see,”  replied  Monte-Cristo, 44  that  they  will  be  as  differ- 
ent as  possible  in  the  hands  of  Ali.  With  him  they  will  be  gentle  and 
docile  as  lambs.”  Ali  had,  indeed,  given  proof  of  this  ; for,  ap- 
proaching the  animals,  he  quietly  harnessed  the  pacified  animals 
to  the  count’s  chariot,  took  the  reins  in  his  hands,  and  mounted 
the  box  when  to  the  utter  astonishment  of  those  witnessing  the 
ungovernable  spirit  and  maddened  velocity  of  the  same  horses,  he 
was  actually  compelled  to  apply  his  whip  in  no  very  gentle  man- 
ner ere  he  could  induce  them  to  start ; and  even  then  all  that  could 


THE  CQUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


223 


obtained  from  the  celebrated  " dappled  greys,”  now  changed 
into  a couple  of  dull,  sluggish,  stupid  brutes  as,  was  a slow,  pot- 
tering pace,  kept  up  with  so  much  difficulty  that  Mdme.  de  Ville- 
fort  was  more  than  a couple  of  hours  returning  to  her  residence  in 
the  Faubourg  St.  Honore. 

Scarcely  had  the  first  congratulations  upon  her  marvellous  es- 
cape been  gone  through,  than  she  retired  to  her  room,  ostensibly 
for  the  purpose  of  seeking  a little  repose,  but  in  reality  to  write  to 
Mdme.  Danglars  her  account  of  it. 

Nothing  was  talked  of  throughout  the  evening  but  the  adven- 
ture. Albert  related  it  to  his  mother,  Chateau-Renaud  recounted 
it  at  the  Jockey  Club,  and  Debray  detailed  it  at  length  in  the 
salons  of  the  minister;  even  Beauchamp  accorded  twenty  lines  in 
his  journal  to  the  relation  of  the  count’s  courage  and  gallantry, 
thereby  placing  him  as  the  greatest  hero  of  the  day  before  the 
eyes  of  all  the  fair  members  oi  *he  aristocracy  of  France. 
Vast  was  the  crowd  of  visitors  and  inquiring  friends  who  left  theii 
names  at  the  hotel  of  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  with  the  design  of  re- 
newing their  visit  at  the  right  moment,  of  hearing  from  her  lips 
all  the  interesting  circumstances  of  this  most  romantic  adventure. 
M.  de  Villefort  donned  his  best  black  suit,  drew  on  a pair  of  new 
white  kid  gloves,  ordered  the  servants  to  attend  the  carriage 
dressed  in  their  full  livery,  and  forthwith  drove  to  the  count’s  resi- 
dence. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

IDEOLOGY. 

' Hated  by  many,  but  warmly  protected  by  others,  without  being 
really  liked  by  anybody,  M.  de  Villefort  held  a high  position  in 
the  magistracy,  and  maintained  his  eminence.  His  drawing-room, 
regenerated  by  a young  wife  and  a daughter  by  his  first  marriage 
scarcely  eighteen,  was  still  one  of  those  well-regulated  Paris  draw, 
ing-rooms  where  the  worship  of  traditional  customs  and  the  ob- 
servance of  rigid  etiquette  were  carefully  maintained.  A freezing 
politeness,  a strict  fidelity  to  government  principles,  a profound 
contempt  for  theories  and  theorists,  a deep-seated  hatred  of  ideality, 
— these  were  the  elements  of  private  and  public  life  displayed  by 
M.  de  Villefort. 

M.  de  Villefort  was  not  only  a magistrate,  he  was  almost  a 
diplomatist.  He  had  the  reputation  of  being  the  least  inquisitive  and 
the  least  wearisome  man  in  France.  He  gave  a ball  every  year,  at 
which  he  appeared  for  a quarter  of  an  hour  only, — that  is  to  say, 
five-and-forty  minutes  less  than  a king  is  visible  at  his  balls.  He 
was  never  seen  in  any  place  of  public  resort.  Occasionally,  but 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


£24 

seldom,  he  played  at  whist,  and  then  care  was  taken  to  select 
partners  worthy  of  him.  Such  was  the  man  whose  carriage  had 
just  now  stopped  before  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo’s  door.  The 
valet-de-cliambre  announces  M.  de  Villefort  at  the  moment  when 
the  count,  leaning  over  a large  table,  was  tracing  on  a map  the 
route  from  St.  Petersburg  to  China. 

The  attorney  general  entered  with  the  same  grave  and  measured 
step  employed  in  entering  a court  of  justice.  He  was  the  same 
man,  or  rather  the  completion  of  the  same  man,  whom  we  have 
heretofore  seen  as  deputy  at  Marseilles.  From  slender  he  had 
become  meagre  ; from  pale,  yellow  ; his  deep-set  eyes  were  now 
hollow,  and  gold  spectacles,  as  they  shielded  his  eyes,  seemed  to 
make  a portion  of  his  face.  All  his  costume  was  black,  with  the 
exception  of  his  white  cravat,  and  this  funeral  appearance  was 
only  broken  in  upon  by  the  slight  line  of  red  riband  which  passed 
almost  imperceptibly  through  his  button-hole,  and  which  appeared 
like  a streak  of  blood  traced  with  a pencil.  Although  master  of 
himself,  Monte-Cristo  scrutinized  with  irrepressible  curiosity  the 
magistrate,  whose  salute  he  returned,  and  who,  distrustful  by 
habit,  and  especially  incredulous  as  to  social  marvels,  was  much 
more  disposed  to  see  in  the  noble  stranger,  as  Monte-Cristo  was 
already  called,  a chevalier  (T Industrie,  who  had  come  to  try  new 
ground,  or  some  malefactor  who  had  broken  his  prescribed  limits, 
than  a prince  of  the  Holy  See,  or  a sultan  of  the  ‘ Arabian  Nights/ 

“Sir,”  said  Villefort,  in  the  tone  assumed  by  magistrates  in 
their  oratorical  periods,  and  of  which  they  cannot,  or  will  not,  di- 
vest  themselves  in  society, — “ sir,  the  signal  service  which  you 
yesterday  rendered  to  my  wife  and  son  has  made  it  a duty 
in  me  to  offer  you  my  thanks.  Allow  me,  therefore,  to  discharge 
this  duty,  and  to  express  to  you  all  my  gratitude.”  And  as  he  said 
this,  the  magistrate  had  lost  nothing  of  his  habitual  arrogance. 
These  words  he  articulated  in  the  voice  of  a lawyer,  with  the 
rigid  inflexibility  of  neck  and  shoulders  which  caused  his  flatterers 
to  say  that  he  was  the  living  statue  of  the  law. 

“ Sir,”  replied  the  count,  with  a chilling  air,  “ I am  very  happy 
to  have  been  the  means  of  preserving  a son  to  his  mother,  for 
they  say  that  the  sentiment  of  maternity  is  the  most  holy  of  all ; 
and  the  good  fortune  which  occurred  to  me,  monsieur,  might  have 
enabled  you  to  dispense  with  a duty  which,  in  its  discharge,  con- 
fers an  undoubtedly  great  honor ; for  I am  aware  that  M.  de  Ville- 
fort is  not  lavish  of  the  favor  he  bestows  on  me,  but  which,  how- 
ever estimable,  is  unequal  to  the  satisfaction  which  I internally 
experience.”  Villefort,  astonished  at  this  reply,  which  he  by  no 
means  expected,  started  like  a soldier  who  feels  the  blow  levelled 
at  him  over  the  armour  he  wears,  and  a curl  of  his  disdainful  lip 
indicated  that  from  that  moment  he  noted  in  the  tablets  of  his 
brain  that  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  was  by  no  means  a highly- 
bred  gentleman.  He  glanced  around,  in  order  to  seize  on  something 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CEISTO. 


225 


on  which  the  conversation  might  turn,  and  seemed  to  fall  easily. 
He  saw  the  map  which  Monte-Cristo  had  been  examining  when 
he  entered,  and  said, — “You  seem  geographically  engaged,  sir? 
It  is  a rich  study  for  you,  who,  as  I learn,  have  seen  as  many 
lands  as  are  delineated  on  this  map.” 

“Yes,  sir,”  replied  the  count ; “ I have  sought  to  make  on  the 
human  race,  taken  as  a mass,  what  you  practice  every  day  on 
individuals — a physiological  study.  I nave  believed  it  was  much 
easier  to  descend  from  the  whole  to  a part  than  to  ascend  from  a 
part  to  the  whole.  It  is  an  algebraic  axiom,  which  makes  us  pro- 
ceed from  a known  to  an  unknown  quantity,  and  not  from  an 
unknown  to  a known  ; but  sit  down,  sir,  I beg  of  you.” 

Monte-Cristo  pointed  to  a chair,  vhich  the  caller  was  obliged  to 
take  the  trouble  to  move  forward  himself,  whilst  the  count  merely 
fell  back  into  his  own,  on  which  he  had  been  kneeling  when  M. 
Villefort  entered.  Thus  the  count  was  half-way  turned  toward 
his  visitor,  having  his  back  toward  the  window,  his  elbow  resting 
on  the  geographical  chart  which  afforded  the  conversation  for  the 
moment, — a conversation  which  assumed,  as  had  done  those  with 
Danglars  and  Morcerf,  a turn  analogous  to  the  persons,  if  not  the 
situation.  “Ah,  you  philosophize,’’ replied  Villefort,  after  a mo- 
ment’s silence,  during  which,  like  a wrestler  >*ho  encouters  a 
powerful  opponent,  he  took  breath;  “well,  sir,  really,  if,  like 
you,  I had  nothing  else  to  do,  I should  seek  a more  amusing  oc- 
cupation.” 

“ Why,  in  truth,  sir,”  was  Monte-Cristo’ s reply,  “ man  is  but  an 
ugly  caterpillar  for  him  who  studies  him  through  a solar  micro- 
cope ; but  you  said,  I think,  that  I had  nothing  else  tc  do.  Now, 
really,  let  me  ask,  sir,  have  you? — do  you  believe  you  have  any- 
thing to  do  ? or  to  speak  in  plain  terms,  do  you  really  think  that 
what  you  do  deserves  being  called  anything?” 

Villefort’ s astonishment  redoubled  at  this  second  thrust  so  forci- 
bly made  by  his  strange  adversary.  It  was  a long  time  since 
the  magistrate  had  heard  a paradox  so  strong,  or  rather,  to  say  the 
truth  more  exactly,  it  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  heard  of 
it.  He  exerted  himself  to  reply.  “ Sir,”  he  responded,  “ you  are 
a foreigner,  and  I believe  you  say  yourself  that  a portion  of  your 
life  has  been  spent  in  Oriental  countries  : thus,  then,  you  are  not 
aware  how  human  justice,  so  expeditious  in  barbarous  countries, 

takes  with  us  a prudent  and  well-studied  course.” “ Oh,  yes — 

yes,  I do,  sir,  it  is  the  pedeclaudo\ of  the  ancients.  I know  all  that,  for 
it  is  with  the  justice  of  all  countries  especially  that  I have  occu- 
pied myself — it  is  with  the  criminal  procedure  of  all  nations  that  I 
have  compared  natural  justice,  and  I must  say,  sir,  that  it  is  the 
law  of  primitive  nations,  that  is,  the  law  of  retaliation,  that  I 
have  most  frequently  found  to  be  according  to  the  law  of  God.” 
“But  with  what  motive  have  you  studied  all  this  ? ’’inquired 
Villefort,  astonished.  Monte-Cristo  smiled. 

15 


226 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CKISTO. 


“ Really,  sir/'  he  observed,  “ I see  that  in  spite  of  the  reputa- 
tion which  you  have  acquired  as  a superior  man,  you  contemplate 
everything  in  the  material  and  vulgar  view  of  society,  beginning 
with  man,  and  ending  with  man — with  eyes  fixed  on  the  social  or- 
ganization of  nations,  you  see  only  the  springs  of  the  machine, 
and  lose  sight  of  the  sublime  workman  who  makes  them  act ; I say 
that  you  do  not  recognize  before  you  and  around  you  any  but 
those  placemen  whose  brevets  have  been  signed  by  the  minister  or 
the  king  ; and  that  the  men  whom  God  has  put  above  those 
titulars,  ministers,  and  kings,  by  giving  them  a mission  to  follow 
out,  instead  of  a post  to  fill — I say  that  they  escape  your  narrow, 
limited  ken.  It  is  thus  that  human  weakness  fails,  from  its  debili- 
tated and  imperfect  organs,” 

“Then,”  said  Villefort,  more  and  more  amazed,  and  really  sup- 
posing he  was  speaking  to  a mystic  or  a madman,  “ you  consider 
yourself  as  one  of  extraordinary  beings?” 

“And  why  not?”  said  Monte-Cristo,  coldly. 

“Your  pardon,  sir,”  replied  Villefort,  quite  astounded,  “upon 
my  word,  you  overcome  me.  I really  never  heard  a person  speak 
as  you  do.” 

“ Because  you  remain  eternally  encircled  in  a round  of  general 
conditions,  and  have  never  dared  to  raise  your  wing  into  those 
upper  spheres  which  God  his  peopled  with  invisible  or  marked 
beings.” 

“Ah  ! ” said  Villefort,  smiling,  “ I confess  I should  like  to  be 
warned  when  one  of  these  beings  is  in  contact  with  me.” 

“You  have  been  served  as  you  desire,  monsieur,  for  you  have 
been  warned  just  now,  and  I now  again  warn  you.” 

“Then  you  yourself  are  one  of  these  marked  beings?” 

“ Yes,  monsieur,  I believe  so  ; for  until  now,  no  man  has  founf 
himself  in  a position  similar  to  mine.  The  dominions  of  kings  are 
limited  either  by  mountains  or  rivers,  or  a change  of  manners,  or 
an  alteration  of  language.  My  kingdom  is  bounded  only  by  the 
world,  for  I am  neither  an  Italian,  nor  a Frenchman,  nor  a 
Hindoo,  nor  an  American,  nor  a Spaniard — I am  a cosmopolitan. 
No  country  can  say  it  saw  my  birth.  God  alone  knows  what 
country  will  see  me  die.  I adopt  all  customs,  speak  all  languages. 
You  believe  me  to  be  a Frenchman,  for  I speak  French  with  the 
same  facility  and  purity  as  yourself.  Well,  Ali,  my  Nubian,  be- 
lieves me  to  be  an  Arab  ; Bertuccio,  my  steward,  takes  me  for  g 
Roman  ; Haydee,  my  slave,  thinks  me  a Greek.  You  may,  there- 
fore, comprehend,  that  being  of  no  country/asking  no  protection 
from  any  government,  acknowledging  no  man  as  my  brother,  not 
one  of  the  scruples  that  arrest  the  powerful,  or  the  obstacles  which 
paralyze  the  weak,  paralyze  or  arrest  me.  I have  only  two  adver- 
saries— I will  not  say  two  conquerors,  for  with  perseverance  I sub- 
due even  them,  though  they  are  time  and  distance.  There  is  a 
third,  and  the  n#>st  terrible — that  is  my  condition  as  a mortal 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


22? 

being.  This  alone  can  stop  me  in  my  onward  career,  and  before 
I have  attained  the  goal  at  which  I aim,  for  all  the  rest  I have  cal- 
culated. What  men  call  the  chances  of  fate — namely,  ruin, 
change,  circumstances — I have  anticipated  them  all  ; and  if  any 
of  these  should  overtake  me,  yet  they  will  not  overwhelm  me. 
Unless  I die,  I shall  always  be  what  I am,  and  therefore  it  is  that 
I utter  the  things  you  have  never  heard,  even  from  the  mouths  of 
kings — for  kings  have  need,  and  other  persons  have  fear  of  you. 
i For  who  is  there  who  does  not  say  to  himself,  in  society  as  in- 
congruously organized  as  ours,  4 Perhaps  some  day  I shall  have  to 
'do  with  the  Public  Prosecutor!  ’ ” 

•*  But  can  you  not  say  that,  sir?  For  the  moment  you  become 
an  inhabitant  of  France,  you  are  naturally  subjected  to  the  French 
law.” 

“I  know  it,  sir,”  replied  Monte-Cristo ; “but  when  I visit  a 
country  I begin  to  study,  by  all  the  means  which  are  available,  the 
men  from  whom  I may  have  anything  to  hope  or  to  fear,  until  I 
know  them  as  well,  perhaps  better,  that  they  know  themselves. 
It  follows  from  this,  that  the  Attorney  General  be  he  who  he 
may,  with  whom  I should  have  to  deal,  would  assuredly  be  more 
embarrassed  than  I should.” 

‘‘That  is  to  say,”  replied  Villefort,  with  hesitation,  44  thathuman 
nature  being  weak,  every  man,  according  to  your  creed,  has  com- 
mitted faults.” 44  Faults  or  crimes,”  responded  Monte-Cristo, 

with  a negligent  air. 

44  And  that  you  alone,  amongst  the  men  whom  you  do  not  rec- 
ognize as  your  brothers — for  you  have  said  so,”  observed  Ville- 
fort, in  a tone  that  faltered  somewhat — 44  you  alone  are  perfect.” 

44  No,  not  perfect,”  was  the  count’s  reply  , 44  only  impenetrable, 
that’s  all.  But  let  us  leave  off  this  strain,  sir,  if  the  tone  of  it  is 
displeasing  to  you  ; I am  no  more  disturbed  by  your  justice  than 
are  you  by  my  second-sight.” 

44  No  ! no! — by  no  means,”  said  Villefort,  who  was  afraid  of 
seeming  to  abandon  his  ground.  44  No  ; by  your  brilliant  and  al- 
most sublime  conversation  you  have  elevated  me  above  the 
ordinary  level ; we  no  longer  talk,  we  rise  to  dissertation.  But  I 
will  say  to  you,  rude  as  it  may  seem,  4 My  brother,  you  sacrifice 
greatly  to  pride  •,  you  may  be  above  others,  but  above  you  there 
is  God.’  ” 

44  Above  us  all,  sir,”  was  Monte-Cristo’s  response,  in  a tone  and 
with  an  emphasis  so  deep,  that  Villefort  involuntarily  shuddered. 
44 1 have  my  pride  for  men — serpents  always  ready  to  erect  them- 
selves against  every  one  who  may  pass  without  crushing  them. 
But  I lay  aside  that  pride  before  God,  who  has  taken  me  from 
nothing  to  make  me  what  am.” 

“Then,  my  Lord,  I admire  you,”  said  Villefort,  who,  for  the 
first  time  in  this  strange  conversation,  used  the  aristocratical  title 
to  the  unknown  personage.  44  Yes,  and  I $ay  to  you,  if  you  ars 


228 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


really  strong,  really  superior,  really  pious,  or  impenetrable,  which 
you  were  right  in  saying  amounts  to  the  same  thing — yet  be  proud, 
sir,  that  is  the  characteristic  of  predominance — yet  you  have  un- 
questionably some  ambition.” 

“ I too,  as  happens  to  every  man  once  in  his  life,  have  been 
taken  by  Satan  into  the  highest  mountain  in  the  earth,  and  when 
there  he  showed  me  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth,  and  as  he  said 
before,  so  said  he  to  me,  1 Child  of  earth,  what  wouldst  thou  have 
to  make  thee  adore  me  ? * I reflected  long,  for  a gnawing  ambi- 
tion had  long  preyed  upon  me,  and  then  I replied,  * Listen, — I 
have  always  heard  tell  of  Providence,  and  yet  I have  never  seen 
Him,  nor  anything  that  resembles  Him,  or  which  can  make  me 
believe  that  He  exists.  I wish  to  be  Providence  myself,  for  I feel 
that  the  most  beautiful,  noblest,  most  sublime  thing  in  the  world, 
is  to  recompense  and  punish.’  Satan  bowed  his  head,  and 
groaned.  * You  mistake,’  he  said  ; 1 Providence  does  exist,  only 
you  have  never  seen  Him,  because  the  child  of  God  is  as  invisible 
as  the  parent.  You  have  seen  nothing  that  resembles  Him,  be- 
cause He  works  by  secret  springs,  and  moves  by  hidden  ways. 
All  I can  do  for  you  is  to  make  you  one  of  the  agents  of  that  Prov- 
idence.’ The  bargain  was  concluded.  I may  sacrifice  my  soul, 
but  what  matters  it?  ” added  Monte-Cristo.  “If  the  thing  were 
to  do  again,  I would  again  do  it.” 

Villefort  looked  at  Monte-Cristo  with  extreme  amazement. 
“ My  Lord,”  he  inquired,  “ have  you  any  relatives  ? ” 

“ No,  sir,  I am  alone  in  the  world.” 

“ So  much  the  worse.” “ Why  ? ” asked  Monte-Cristo. 

“Because  then  you  might  witness  a spectacle  calculated  to 
break  down  your  pride.  There  is  something  to  fear  besides  death, 
old  age,  and  madness.  For  instance,  there  is  apoplexy — that 
lightning-stroke  which  strikes  but  does  not  destroy  you,  and  yet 
after  which  all  is  ended.  Come,  if  so  you  will,  and  continue  this 
conversation  at  my  house,  any  day  you  may  be  willing  to  see  an 
adversary  capable  of  understanding  and  anxious  to  refute  you, 
and  I will  show  you  my  father,  M.  Noirtier  de  Villefort,  one  of  the 
most  fiery  Jacobins  of  the  French  Revolution;  most  remarkable 
audacity,  seconded  by  a most  powerful  organization — a man  who, 
perhaps,  has  not,  like  yourself,  seen  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth, 
but  who  has  helped  to  overturn  one  of  the  most  powerful ; in  fact, 
a man  who,  like  you,  believed  himself  one  of  the  envoys — not  of 
God — but  of  a Supreme  Being  ; not  of  Providence,  but  of  Fate. 
Well,  sir,  the  rupture  of  a blood-vessel  on  the  lobe  of  the  brain  has 
destroyed  all  this — not  in  a day,  not  in  an  hour — but  in  a second. 
Noirtier,  so  redoubted,  was  the  next  morning  poor  old  Noirtier , the 
helpless  old  man,  at  the  tender  mercies  of  the  weakest  creature  in 
the  household,  that  is,  his  grandchild,  Valentine  ; a dumb  and 
frozen  carcass,  in  fact,  who  only  lives  without  suffering,  that  time 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  229 

may  be  given  to  his  frame  to  decompose  without  his  consciousness 
of  his  decay.” 

"Alas,  sir!”  said  Monte-Cristo,  "this  spectacle  is  neither 
strange  to  my  eye  nor  my  thought.  I am  something  of  a physi- 
cian, and  have,  like  my  fellows,  sought  more  than  once  for  the 
soul  in  living  and  in  dead  matter  ; yet,  like  Providence,  it  has 
remained  invisible  to  my  eyes,  although  present  to  my  heart.  A 
hundred  writers  have  made  the  comparison,  and  yet  I can  well 
understand  that  a father’s  sufferings  may  effect  great  changes  in  a 
son,  I will  call  on  you,  sir,  since  you  bid  me  contemplate,  for  the 
advantage  of  my  pride,  this  terrible  spectacle,  which  must  spread 
so  much  sorrow  throughout  your  house.” 

" It  would  have  done  so  unquestionably,  had  not  God  given  me 
so  large  a compensation.  In  presence  of  the  old  man,  who  is 
dragging  his  way  to  the  tomb,  are  two  children  just  entering  into 
life — Valentine,  the  daughter  by  my  first  wife,  Mdlle.  Renee  de 
Saint-Meran,  and  Edward,  the  boy  whose  life  you  have  this  day 
saved.” 

" And  what  do  you  argue  from  this  compensation,  sir  ? ” inquired 
Monte-Cristo. 

" My  reasoning  is,”  replied  Villefort,  "triat  my  father,  led  away 
Iby  his  passions,  has  committed  some  fault  unknown  to  human 
justice,  but  marked  by  the  justice  of  God.  That  God,  desirous  in 
His  mercy  to  punish  but  one  person,  has  visited  this  justice  on  him 
alone.”  Monte-Cristo,  with  a smile  on  his  lips,  had  yet  a groan  at 
his  heart,  which  would  have  made  Villefort  flee  had  he  but  heard 
it.  " Adieu,  sir,”  said  the  magistrate,  who  had  risen  from  his 
seat ; " I leave  you,  bearing  a remembrance  of  you — a remem- 
brance of  esteem,  which  I hope  will  not  be  disagreeable  to  you 
when  you  know  me  better ; for  I am  not  a man  to  bore  my  friends, 
as  you  will  learn.  Besides,  you  have  made  an  eternal  friend  of 
Mdme.  de  Villefort.”  The  count  bowed,  and  contented  himself 
with  seeing  Villefort  to  the  door  of  his  cabinet,  the  proctor  being 
escorted  to  his  carriage  by  two  footmen,  who,  on  a signal  from 
their  master,  followed  him  with  every  mark  of  attention.  When 
he  had  gone,  Monte-Cristo  drew  a hard  breath  from  his  oppressed 
bosom,  and  said, — M Enough  of  this  poison,  let  me  now  seek  the 
antidote.” 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

THE  MORREL  FAMILY. 

In  a short  time  the  count  reached  No.  7 in  the  Rue  Meslay. 
The  house  was  of  white  stone,  and  in  a small  court  before  it  were 
two  small  beds  full  of  beautiful  flowers.  In  the  janitor  that  opened 


230 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


tfu  gate  the  count  recognized  Codes  ; but  as  he  had  but  one  eye( 
and  that  eye  had  considerably  weakened  in  the  course  of  nine 
years,  Codes  did  not  so  readily  recognize  the  count.  The  house, 
raised  above  the  kitchens  and  cellars,  had,  besides  the  ground- 
floor,  two  stories  and  attics.  The  whole  of  the  property,  consist- 
ing of  an  immense  workshop,  two  pavilions  at  the  bottom  of  the 
garden,  and  the  garden  itself,  had  been  purchased  by  Emmanuel, 
who  had  seen  at  a glance  that  he  could  make  a profitable  specula- 
tion of  it.  He  had  reserved  the  house  and  half  the  garden,  and 
building  a wall  between  the  garden  and  the  workshops,  had  let 
them  upon  lease  with  the  pavilions  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden.  So 
that  for  a trifling  sum  he  was  as  well  lodged,  and  as  perfectly  shut 
out  from  observation,  as  the  inhabitants  of  the  finest  mansion. 
The  whole  of  the  second  story  was  set  apart  for  Maximilian  ; it 
was  precisely  the  same  as  his  sister’s  apartments,  except  that  the 
breakfast-parlor  was  changed  into  a billiard-room,  where  he  re- 
ceived his  friends.  He  was  superintending  the  dressing  down  of 
his  horse,  and  smoking  his  cigar  at  the  entrance  of  the  garden, 
when  the  count’s  carriage  stopped  at  the  door. 

“ The  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  ? ” cried  Morrel,  throwing  away 
his  cigar  and  hastening  to  the  carriage  ; “ I should  think  we  would 
see  him.  Ah ! a thousand  thanks,  for  not  having  forgotten  your 
promise.”  And  the  young  officer  shook  the  count’s  hand  so 
warmly,  that  the  latter  could  not  be  mistaken  as  to  the  sincerity  of 
his  joy,  and  he  saw  that  he  had  been  expected  with  impatience, 
and  was  received  with  pleasure.  “ Come,  cornel”  said  Maximil- 
ian, “ I will  serve  as  your  guide  : such  a man  as  you  ought  not  to 
be  introduced  by  a servant.  My  sister  is  in  the  garden  plucking 
the  dead  roses  ; my  brother  reading  his  two  papers,  within  five 
steps  of  her,  for  wherever  you  see  Mdme.  Herbault,  you  have  only 
to  look  within  a circle  of  four  yards  and  you  will  find  M. 
Emmanuel,  and  * reciprocally,’  as  they  say  at  the  Polytechnic 
School.” 

At  the  sound  of  their  steps  a young  woman  of  twenty,  dressed 
in  a silk  wrap,  and  busily  engaged  in  plucking  the  dead  leaves  off 
the  splendid  rose-tree,  raised  her  head.  This  female  was  Julie, 
who  had  become,  as  the  clerk  of  the  house  of  Thomson  and 
French  had  predicted,  Mdme.  Emmanuel  Herbault.  She  uttered 
a cry  of  surprise  at  the  sight  of  a stranger,  and  Maximilian  began 
to  laugh.  “ Don’t  disturb  yourself,  Julie,”  said  he.  “ The  count 
has  only  been  two  or  three  days  in  Paris,  but  he  already  knows 
what  a woman  of  fashion  of  the  Swampward  is,  and  if  he  does  not, 
you  will  show  him.” 

“ Ah  ! ” returned  Julie,  " it  is  unfair  in  my  brother  to  bring  you 
thus,  but  he  never  has  any  regard  for  his  poor  sister.  Penelon  ! ” 
An  old  man,  who  was  digging  busily  at  one  of  the  beds  of  roses, 
stuck  his  spade  in  the  earth,  and  approached,  cap  in  hand,  and 
striving  to  conceal  a quid  of  tobacco  thrust  into  his  cheek.  A few 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


231 


iocks  of  grey  mingled  witn  ms  nair,  which  was  still  thicK  and  mat- 
ted, whilst  his  bronzed  features  and  determined  glance  announced 
the  old  sailor  who  had  braved  the  heat  of  the  equator  and  the 
storms  of  the  tropics.  44  I think  you  hailed  me,  Mdlle.  Julie  ?” 
said  he.  44  Penelon,”  replied  Julie,  44  go  and  inform  M.  Emmanuel 
of  this  gentleman’s  visit,  and  Maximilian  will  conduct  him  to  the 
parlor.’’  Then,  turning  to  Monte-Cristo,  t ontinued  she,  “ I hope 
you  will  permit  me  to  leave  you  for  a few  minutes,”  and  without 
awaiting  any  reply,  disappeared  behind  a clump  of  trees,  and 
entered  the  house  by  a lateral  alley. 

44  I am  sorry  to  see,”  observed  Monte-Cristo  to  Morrel,  44  that  I 
cause  no  small  disturbance  in  your  house.” 

44  Look  there,”  said  Maximilian,  laughing  ; *•  there  is  her  hus- 
band changing  his  jacket  for  a coat.  I assure  you,  you  are  well 
known  in  the  Rue  Meslay.” 

44  Your  family  appears  to  be  a very  happy  one  ! ” said  the  count, 
as  if  speaking  t®  himself. 

44  Oh,  yes,  I assure  you,  they  want  nothing  that  can  render  them 
happy  ; they  are  young  and  cheerful,  they  are  tenderly  attached 
to  each  other,  and  with  twenty-five  thousand  francs  a year  they 
fancy  themselves  as  rich  as  Rothschild.” 

44  Five-and-twenty  thousand  francs  is  not  a large  sum,  how- 
ever,” replied  Monte-Cristo,  with  a tone  so  sweet  and  gentle,  that 
it  went  to  Maximilian’s  heart  like  the  voice  of  a father  ; 44  but  they 
will  not  be  content  with  that : your  brother-in-law  is  a barrister  ? 
or  doctor  ? ’ ’ 

44  He  was  a merchant,  and  had  succeeded  to  the  business  of  my 
poor  father.  M.  Morrel,  at  his  death,  left  500,000  francs  which 
were  divided  between  my  sister  and  myself,  for  we  were  his  only 
children.  Her  husband,  who,  when  he  married  her,  had  no  other 
patrimony  than  his  noble  probity,  his  first-rate  ability,  and  his 
spotless  reputation,  wished  to  possess  as  much  as  his  wife.  He 
labored  and  toiled  until  he  had  amassed  250,000  francs  ; six  years 
sufficed  to  achieve  this  object.  Oh,  I assure  you,  it  was  a touch- 
ing spectacle  to  see  these  young  creatures,  destined  by  their  talents 
for  higher  stations,  toiling  together,  and,  unwilling  to  change  any 
of  the  customs  of  their  paternal  house,  taking  six  years  to  accom- 
plish that  which  innovators  would  have  effected  in  two  or  three, 
Marseilles  resounded  with  their  well-earned  praises.” 

Maximilian  had  scarcely  finished  hit/  story,  during  which  the 
count’s  heart  had  seemed  ready  to  burst,  when  Emmanuel  entered, 
full  dressed.  He  saluted  the  count  with  the  air  of  a man  aware  of 
the  rank  of  his  guest ; then,  after  having  led  Monte-Cristo  round 
the  little  garden,  he  returned  to  the  house.  A large  vase  of  Japan 
porcelain,  filled  with  flowers,  stood  in  the  parlor.  Julie,  suitably 
dressed,  and  her  hair  arranged  (she  had  accomplished  this  feat  in 
less  than  ten  minutes),  received  the  count  on  his  entrance.  Every- 
thing in  this  charming  retreat,  from  the  warble  of  the  birds  to  the 


2$2 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


smile  oi  the  mistress,  breathed  tranquillity  and  repose.— 
11  Madame/’  said  the  count  at  length,  tl  I pray  you  to  excuse  my 
emotion,  which  must  astonish  you,  accustomed  to  the  happiness  I 
meet  here  ; but  satisfaction  is  so  new  a sight  to  me,  that  I could 
never  be  weary  of  looking  at  yourself  and  your  husband.” 
f 44  We  are  very  happy,  monsieur,”  replied  Julie  ; 41  but  we  have 
also  known  unhappiness,  and  few  have  ever  undergone  more  bitter 
sufferings  than  ourselves.”  The  count’s  features  displayed  an  ex- 
pression of  the  most  intense  curiosity. 

44  Our  magnificence  makes  you  smile,  count,”  said  Maximilian, 
who  had  followed  him  with  his  eyes.  44  No,  no,”  returned  Monte- 
Cristo,  pale  as  death,  pressing  one  hand  on  his  heart  to  still  its 
throbbings,  whilst  with  the  other  he  pointed  to  a glass  shade, 
beneath  which  a silken  purse  lay  on  a black  velvet  cushion.  44 1 
was  wondering  what  could  be  the  use  of  this  purse,  which  contains 
a paper  at  one  end  and  at  the  other  a large  diamond.” — 44  Count,” 
replied  Maximilian,  with  an  air  of  gravity,  44  those  are  our  most 
precious  family  treasures.” 

44  The  stone  seems  very  brilliant,”  answered  the  count. 

44  Oh,  my  brother  does  not  allude  to  its  value,  although  it  has 
been  estimated  at  100,000  francs  ; he  means,  that  the  articles  con- 
tained in  this  purse  are  the  relics  of  the  angel  I spoke  of  just 
now.” 

44  This  I do  not  comprehend  ; and  yet  I may  not  ask  for  an  ex- 
planation, madam,”  replied  Monte-Cristo,  bowing.  44  Pardon 
me,  I had  no  intention  of  commiting  an  indiscretion.” 

44  Sir,”  returned  Maximilian,  raising  the  glass  cover,  and  re- 
spectfully kissing  the  silken  purse,  44  this  has  touched  the  hand  of 
a man  who  saved  my  father  from  suicide,  us  from  ruin,  and  our 
name  from  shame  and  disgrace, — a man  by  whose  matchless  be- 
nevolence we,  poor  children,  doomed  to  want  and  wretchedness, 
can  at  present  hear  every  one  envying  our  happy  lot.  This  letter  ” 
(as  he  spoke,  Maximilian  drew  a letter  from  the  purse  and  gave  it 
to  the  count) — 44  this  letter  was  written  by  him  the  day  that  my 
father  had  taken  a desperate  resolution,  and  this  diamond  was 
given  by  the  generous  unknown  to  my  sister  as  her  dowry.” 
Monte-Cristo  opened  the  letter,  and  read  it  with  an  indescribable 
feeling  of  delight.  It  was  the  letter  written  (as  our  readers  know) 
to  Julie,  and  signed  44  Sinbad  the  Sailor.”  44  Unknown  you  say,  is 
the  man  who  rendered  you  this  service — unknown  to  you  ? ” 
j 44  Yes  ; we  have  never  had  the  happiness  of  pressing  his  hand,” 
'continued  Maximilian.  44  We  have  supplicated  Heaven  in  vain  to 
grant  us  this  favor,  but  all  the  affair  has  had  a mysterious  direc- 
tion we  cannot  comprehend — all  has  been  guided  by  a hand  in- 
visible, but  powerful  as  that  of  an  enchanter.” 

44  Oh  ! ” cried  Julie,  44  I have  not  lost  all  hope  of  some  day  kiss- 
ing that  hand,  as  I now  kiss  the  purse  which  he  has  touched. 
Four  years  ago,  Penelon  the  old  sailor  you  saw  in  the  garden,  and 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


23J 

who  has  become  gardener — Penelon,  when  he  was  at  Trieste,  saw 
on  the  quay  an  Englishman,  who  was  on  the  point  of  embarking 
on  board  a yacht,  and  he  recognized  him  as  the  person  who 
called  on  my  father  the  5th  of  June,  1829,  and  who  wrote  me  this 
letter  on  the  5 th  of  September.  He  felt  convinced  of  his  identity, 
but  he  did  not  venture  to  address  him.” 

“ An  Englishman  ! ” said  Monte-Cristo,  who  grew  uneasy  at  the 
attention  with  which  Julie  looked  at  him.  M An  Englishman,  you 
say  ?” 

“ Yes,”  replied  Maximilian,  M an  Englishman,  who  represented 
himself  as  the  confidential  clerk  of  the  house  of  Thomson  and 
French,  at  Rome.  It  was  this  that  made  me  start  when  you  said 
the  other  day,  at  M.  de  Morcerf’ s that  Messrs.  Thomson  and 
French  were  your  bankers.  That  happened,  as  I told  you,  in  1829. 
Tell  me,  did  you  know  this  Englishman  ? ” 

“ But  you  tell  me,  also,  that  the  house  of  Thomson  and  French 

have  constantly  denied  having  rendered  you  this  service  ? ” 

•<  Yes.” 

* 4 Then  it  is  not  probable  that  this  Englishman  may  be  some 
one  who,  grateful  for  a kindness  your  father  had  shown  him,  and 
which  he  himself  had  forgotten,  has  taken  this  method  of  requiting 
the  obligation  ? ’ ’ 

“ Everything  is  possible  on  such  an  occasion,  even  a miracle.” 

“ What  was  his  name?”  asked  Monte-Cristo. 

“ He  gave  no  other  name,”  answered  Julie,  looking  earnestly  at 
the  count,  “ than  that  at  the  end  of  his  letter — • Sinbad  the 
Sailor.’  ” 

0 Which  is  evidently  not  his  real  name,  but  a fictitious  one.” 
Then,  noticing  that  Julie  was  struck  with  the  sound  of  his  voice, — 
“Tell  me,”  continued  he,  “ was  he  not  about  my  height,  per- 
haps a little  taller,  his  chin  imprisoned,  to  use  the  word,  in  a high 
cravat  ; his  coat  closely  buttoned  up,  and  constantly  taking  out  his 
pencil  ? ” 

“ Oh,  do  you  then  know  him  ? ” cried  Julie,  whose  eyes  sparkled 
with  joy. 

“No,”  returned  Monte-Cristo,  “I  only  guessed.  I knew  a 
Lord  Wilmore,  who  was  constantly  doing  actions  of  this  kind. 

“ Without  revealing  himself?  ” 

“ He  was  an  eccentric  being.  If  Lord  Wilmore  was  your  un- 
known benefactor,  I fear  you  will  never  again  see  him.  I parted 
from  him,  two  years  ago,  at  Palermo,  and  he  was  then  on  the 
point  of  setting  out  for  the  most  remote  regions  ; so  that  I fear  he 
will  never  return.” 

“ And  he  told  you  nothing  ?/* 

“ Not  a word.” 

“And  yet  you  instantly  named  him.” 

“ Ah,  in  such  a case  one  supposes ” 

*•  Sister,  sister,”  said  Maximilian,  coming  to  the  count’s  aid. 


234 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


the  count  is  quite  right.  Recollect  what  our  excellent  father  &0 
often  told  us,  * It  was  no  Englishman  that  thus  saved  us/*’ 
Monte-Cristo  started.  " What  did  your  father  tell  you,  M.  Mor- 
rel?”  said  he,  eagerly. 

“ My  father  thought  that  this  action  had  been  miraculously  per- 
formed— he  believed  that  a benefactor  had  arisen  from  the  grave 
to  save  us.  Oh,  it  was  a touching  superstition,  monsieur,  and  al- 
though I did  not  myself  believe  it,  I would  not  for  the  world  have 
destroyed  my  father’s  faith  in  it.  How  often  did  he  muse  over  it 
and  pronounce  the  name  of  a dear  friend — a friend  lost  to  him  for- 
ever ; and  on  his  death-bed,  when  the  near  approach  of  eternity 
seemed  to  have  illumined  his  mind  with  supernatural  light,  this 
thought,  which  had  until  then  been  but  a doubt,  became  a convic- 
tion, and  his  last  words  were,  * Maximilian  it  was  Edmond  Dan- 
tes ! ” ’ 

At  these  words  the  count’s  paleness,  which  had  for  sometime 
been  increasing,  became  alarming  ; he  could  not  speak ; he 
looked  at  his  watch  like  a man  who  has  forgotten  the  time  ; said  a 
few  hurried  words  to  Mdme  Herbault,  and  pressing  the  hands  of 
Emmanuel  and  Maximilian, — “ Madame/*  said  he,  " I trust  you 
will  allow  me  to  visit  you  from  time  to  time  ; I value  your  friend- 
ship, and  feel  grateful  to  you  for  your  welcome,  for  this  is  the  first 
time  for  many  years  that  I have  thus  yielded  to  my  feelings  ; ” 
and  he  hastily  quitted  the  apartment. 

“ This  Count  Monte-Cristo  is  a singular  man,”  said  Emmanuel. 

" Yes,”  answered  Maximilian,  **  but  I feel  sure  he  has  an  excel- 
lent heart,  and  that  he  likes  us.” 

“ His  voice  went  to  my  heart,”  observed  Julie  ; u and  two  or 
three  times  I fancied  I had  heard  it  before.” 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

PYRAMUS  AND  THISBE. 

About  the  centre  of  the  Saint  Honore  ward,  and  at  the  back  df 
one  of  the  most  distinguished-looking  mansions  in  this  rich  neigh- 
borhood, extended  a large  garden.  This  noble  resort  had  fallen 
into  utter  disuse,  from  the  period  when  the  proprietors  (and  many 
years  had  elapsed  since  then)  had  confined  themselves  to  the  pos- 
session of  the  mansion  with  its  thickly-planted  court-yard,  opening 
into  the  Faubourg  Saint-Honore,  and  the  garden  shut  in  by  this 
gate,  which  formerly  communicated  with  a fine  kitchen-garden  of 
about  an  acre  in  extent,  let  temporarily  to  some  market-gardeners. 

Horticulture  seemed,  however,  to  have  been  abandoned  in  the 
deserted  kitchen-garden  ; and  where  the  most  choice  and  delicate 
of  fruits  and  vegetables  once  reared  thek  heads,  a scanty  crop  of 


' THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


23  s 

alfalfa  alone  bore  evidence  of  its  being  deemed  worthy  of  cultiva- 
tion. A small,  low  door  gave  egress  from  the  walled  space  we 
have  been  describing  into  the  projected  street,  the  ground  having 
been  abandoned  as  unproductive  by  its  various  renters,  and  had 
now  fallen  so  completely  in  general  estimation  as  to  return  not 
even  a fraction  of  the  poor  rent  it  had  originally  paid.  Towards 
the  house  chestnut  trees  rose  high  above  the  wail,  without  in  any 
way  affecting  the  growth  of  other  luxuriant  shrubs  and  flowers 
that  eagerly  pressed  forward  to  fill  up  the  vacant  spaces,  as  though 
asserting  their  right  to  enjoy  the  boon  of  light  and  air  also.  At 
one  corner,  where  the  foliage  became  so  thick  as  almost  to  shut 
out  day,  a large  stone  bench  and  sundry  rustic  seats  indicated 
that  this  sheltered  spot  was  either  in  general  favor  or  particular 
use  by  some  inhabitant  of  the  hotel,  which  was  faintly  discernible 
through  the  dense  mass  of  verdure  that  partially  concealed  it, 
though  situated  but  a hundred  paces  off. 

On  the  evening  of  one  of  the  warmest  spring  days,  might  be  seen, 
negligently  thrown  upon  the  stone  bench,  a book,  a parasol,  and 
a work-basket,  from  which  hung  a partly-embroidered  cambric 
handkerchief,  while,  at  a little  distance  from  these  articles  was  a 
girl  standing  close  to  the  iron  gate,  endeavoring  to  discern 
something  on  the  other  side  by  means  of  the  openings  in  the  planks, 
whilst  the  earnestness  of  her  attitude,  and  the  fixed  gaze  with 
which  she  seemed  to  seek  the  object  of  her  wishes,  proved  how 
much  her  feelings  were  interested  in  the  matter.  At  that  instant  the 
little  side-door,  leading  from  the  waste  ground  to  the  street,  was 
noiselessly  opened,  and  a tall  powerful  young  man,  dressed  in  a 
common  grey  blouse  and  velvet  cap,  but  whose  carefully-arranged 
hair,  beard,  and  moustaches,  all  of  the  richest  and  glossiest  black, 
but  ill  accorded  with  his  plebeian  attire,  after  casting  a rapid 
glance  around  him,  in  order  to  assure  himself  he  was  unobserved, 
entered  by  this  door,  and  carefully  closing  and  securing  it  after 
him,  proceeded  with  a hurried  step  towards  the  iron  gate. 

At  the  sight  of  him  she  expected,  though  probably  not  under 
such  a costume,  the  female  we  have  before  mentioned  started  in 
terror,  and  was  about  to  make  a hasty  retreat.  But  the  eye  of 
love  had  already  seen,  even  through  the  narrow  chinks  of  the 
wooden  palisades,  the  movement  of  the  white  robe,  and  observed 
the  fluttering  of  the  blue  sash  fastened  around  the  slender  waist  of 
his  fair  neighbor.  Pressing  his  lips  close  to  the  envious  planks 
that  prevented  his  further  progress,  he  exclaimed,  “ Fear  nothing, 
Valentine — it  is  I ! ” Again  the  timid  girl  found  courage  to  re- 
turn to  the  gate,  saying,  as  she  did  so,  “ And  wherefore  come  you 
so  late  to-day  ? It  is  almost  the  dinner-hour,  and  I have  been 
compelled  to  exercise  my  utmost  skill  to  get  rid  of  the  incessant 
watchfulness  of  my  mother-in-law,  as  well  as  the  espionage  of  my 
maid,  who,  no  doubt,  is  employed  to  report  all  I do  and  say.  Nor 
has  it  cost  me  a little  trouble  to  free  myself  from  the  troublesome 


236 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


society  of  my  brother,  under  pretence  of  coming  hither  to  work  tin* 
disturbed  at  my  embroidery,  which,  by  the  way,  I am  in  no  hurry 
vto  finish.  So  pray  excuse  yourself  as  well  as  you  can  for  having 
made  me  wait,  and  after  that,  tell  me  why  I see  you  in  so  singular 
a dress,  that  at  first  I did  not  recognize  you.” 

‘‘Dearest  Valentine  ! ” said  the  young  man,  “let  me  tell  you  I 
have  chosen  a trade.  Tired  out  with  ranging  fields  and  scaling 
walls,  and  seriously  alarmed  at  the  idea  suggested  by  yourself, 
that  if  caught  hovering  about  here  your  father  would  very  likely 
have  me  sent  to  prison  as  a thief,  a sort  of  thing  not  very  desirable 
for  an  officer  in  the  French  army,  whose  continual  presence  in  a 
place  where  no  warlike  projects  could  be  supposed  to  account  for 
it  might  well  create  surprise  ; so  from  a captain  of  Spahis  I have 
become  a gardener,  and,  consequently,  adopted  the  costume  o £ 
my  calling.” 

“ I beseech  of  you,  Maximilian,  to  cease  trifling,  and  tell  me 
what  you  really  mean.*1 

“ Simply,  that  having  ascertained  that  the  piece  of  ground  on 
which  1 stand  was  to  let,  I made  application  for  it,  was  readily 
accepted  by  the  proprietor,  and  am  now  master  of  this  fine  crop  of 
alfalfa  ! Think  of  that,  Valentine  ! Henceforth  we  have  nothing 
to  fear.  I am  on  my  own  ground,  and  have  an  undoubted  right 
to  place  a ladder  against  the  wall,  artd  to  look  over  when  I please, 
without  having  any  apprehensions  of  being  taken  off  by  the  police 
as  a suspicious  character.  1 may  also  enjoy  the  precious  privilege 
of  assuring  you  of  my  fond,  faithful,  and  unalterable  affection. 
Whenever  you  visit  your  favorite  bower,  unless,  indeed,  it  offends 
your  pride  to  listen  to  professions  of  love  from  the  lips  of  a poor 
working  man.0  A faint  cry  of  mingled  pleasure  and  surprise  es- 
caped from  the  lips  of  Valentine,  who  almost  instantly  said,  in  a 
saddened  tone,  as  though  some  envious  cloud  darkened  the  joy 
which  illumined  her  heart,  “Alas!  no  Maximilian,  this  must  not 
be,  for  many  reasons  ! We  should  presume  too  much  on  our  own 
strength,  and,  like  others,  perhapsg  je  led  astray  by  our  blind  con. 
fidence  in  each  other’s  prudence/1 

“ How  can  you  for  an  instant  entertain  so  unworthy  a thought, 
dear  Valentine  ? Have  I not,  from  the  first  blessed  hour  of  our 
acquaintance,  schooled  all  my  words  and  actions  to  your  senti- 
ments and  ideas?  And  you  have,  I am  sure,  the  fullest  confi- 
dence in  my  honor.  You  told  me,  my  dear  Valentine,  that  you 
wele  engaged  to  M.  d’Epinay,  and  that  your  father  was  resolved 
upon  completing  the  match,  and  that  from  his  will  there  was  no 
appeal,  as  M.  de  Villefort  was  never  known  to  change  a determin- 
ation once  formed.  I kept  in  the  background,  as  you  wished. 
You  have  permitted  me  to  converse  with  you  from  time  to  time, 
Valentine,  but  forbidden  my  ever  following  you  in  your  walks  or 
elsewhere — have  I not  obeyed?  ” 

**  It  is  indeed  most  true/*  said  Valentine,  as  she  passed  the  end 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


237 


of  her  slender  fingers  through  a small  opening  in  the  planks,  thus 
permitting  her  lover  to  press  his  lips  to  the  taper  finger  that  al- 
most instantly  disappeared,  ••  and  you  are  a true  and  faithful 
friend  ; a brother.  I,  who  have  no  friend  but  yourself  upon  earth, 
neglected  and  forgotten  by  my  father,  harassed  and  persecuted  by 
my  mother-in-law,  and  left  to  the  sole  companionship  of  a para- 
lyzed and  speechless  old  man,  whose  withered  hand  can  no  longer 
press  mine,  and  whose  eye  alone  converses  with  me,  while,  doubt- 
less, however  fixed,  chilled  his  frame,  there  still  lingers  in  his 
heart  the  warmest  tenderness  for  his  poor  grandchild.  Oh,  how 
bitter  a fate  is  mine,  to  serve  either  as  a victim  or  an  enemy  to  all 
who  are  stronger  than  myself,  while  my  only  friend  and  supporter 
is  but  a living  corpse  ! Indeed,  indeed,  Maximilian,  I am  very 
miserable,  and  you  are  right  to  love  me  for  myself  alone.” 

" Dear  Valentine,”  replied  the  young  man,  deeply  affected,  M. 
Franz  is  not  expected  to  return  home  for  a year  to  come,  I am 
told  ; in  that  time  many  favorable  and  unforeseen  chances  may 
befriend  us.  Let  us,  then,  hope  for  the  best  : hope  is  so  sweet  a 
comforter.” 

“ Maximilian,”  answered  she;  “do  you  not  see  what  a poor, 
helpless  being  I am,  almost  a stranger  and  an  outcast  in  my 
father’s  house,  where  even  he  is  seldom  seen;  whose  will  has 
been  thwarted,  and  spirits  broken,  from  the  age  of  ten  years,  be- 
neath the  iron  rod  so  sternly  exercised  over  me  ; oppressed,  . orti- 
fied,  and  persecuted,  day  by  day,  hour  by  hour,  minute  by 
minute  ; no  person  has  cared  for,  even  observed  my  sufferings,  nor 
have  I ever  breathed  one  word  on  the  subject  save  to  yourself. 
My  father  abandons  me  from  utter  indifference,  while  my  mother- 
in-law  detests  me  with  a hatred  so  much  the  more  terrible  as  it  is 
veiled  beneath  a continual  smile.”  - » 

“Hate  you,  sweet  Valentine!”  exclaimed  the  young  man; 
“ how  is  it  possible  for  any  one  to  do  that  ? ” 

“ Alas  ! ” replied  the  weeping  girl,  “I  am  obliged  to  own  that 
my  mother-in-law’s  aversion  to  me  arises  from  a very  natural 
source — her  overweening  love  for  her  own  child,  my  brother  Ed- 
ward.” < 

' “ But  why  should  it?  ” “ And  I much  fear  she  envies  me  the 

fortune  I already  enjoy  in  right  of  my  mother,  and  which  will  be 
more  than  doubled  at  the  death  of  the  St.  Merans,  whose  sole 
heiress  I am.  Mdme.  de  Villefort  has  nothing  of  her  own,  and 
. hates  me  for  being  so  richly  endowed.  Alas  ! how  gladly  would  I 
exchange  the  half  of  this  wealth  for  the  happiness  of  at  least  shar- 
ing my  father’s  love!  God  knows,  I would  prefer  sacrificing  the 
whole,  so  that  it  would  obtain  me  a happy  and  affectionate  home.” 
“ Poor  Valentine  ! ” 

“ I seem  to  myself  as  though  living  a life  of  bondage,  yet  at  the 
same  time  am  so  conscious  of  my  own  weakness  that  I fear  to 
break  the  restraint  in  which  I am  held,  least  I fall  utterly  power- 


238 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


less  and  helpless.  Then,  too,  my  father  is  not  a person  whos$ 
orders  may  be  infringed  with  impunity  ; protected  as  he  is  by  his 
high  position  and  firmly-established  reputation  for  talent  and  un- 
swerving integrity,  no  one  could  oppose  him ; he  is  all-powerful 
with  even  his  king  ; you  he  would  crush  at  a word,  and  myself 
he  would  cause  to  expire  of  terror  at  his  feet.  Dear  Maximilian, 
believe  me  when  I assure  you  that  I attempt  not  to  resist  my 
father's  commands  more  on  your  account  than  my  own  ; for, 
though  I could  willingly  sacrifice  myself,  I would  not  peril  your 
safety." 

“ How  is  that?  " inquired  the  young  man,  perceiving  that  Val- 
entine hesitated. 

“ Tell  me  truly,  Maximilian,  whether  in  former  days,  when  our 
fathers  dwelt  at  Marseilles,  there  ever  existed  any  misunderstand, 
ing  between  them  ? " 

“ Not  that  I am  at  all  aware  of,"  replied  the  young  man,  “ unless, 
indeed,  any  ill-feeling  might  have  arisen  from  their  being  of  oppo- 
site parties — your  father  being,  as  you  know,  a zealous  partisan  of 
the  Bourbons,  while  mine  was  wholly  devoted  to  the  emperor  ; 
there  could  not  possibly  be  an  other  difference  between  them. 
But  now  that  I have  answered  your  questions  to  the  best  of  my 
power  and  knowledge,  tell  me,  dearest,  why  you  ask?  " 

“ I will,"  replied  his  fair  companion,  “for  it  is  but  right  you 
should  know  all.  Then  I must  begin  by  referrinf  to  the  day  when 
your  being  made  an  officer  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  was  publicly 
announced  in  the  papers.  We  were  all  sitting  in  the  apartments 
of  my  grandfather,  M.  Noirtier;  M.  Danglars  was  there  also — 
you  recollect  M.  Danglars,  do  you  not,  Maximilian,  the  banker, 
whose  horses  ran  away  with  my  mother-in-law  and  little  brother, 
and  very  nearly  killed  them  ? While  the  rest  of  the  company 
were  discussing  the  approaching  marriage  of  Mademoiselle  Dang- 
lars, I was  occupied  in  reading  the  paper  aloud  to  my  grandfather ; 
but  when  I came  to  the  paragraph  concerning  you,  although  I had 
done  nothing  else  but  read  it  over  to  myself  all  the  morning  (you 
know  you  had  told  me  all  about  it  the  previous  evening),  I felt  so 
happy,  and  yet  so  nervous,  at  the  idea  of  pronouncing  your  be- 
loved name  aloud,  and  before  so  many  people,  that  I really  think 
I should  have  passed  it  over,  but  for  the  fear  that  my  so  doing 
might  create  suspicions  as  to  the  cause  of  my  silence  ; so  I sum- 
moned up  all  my  courage,  and  read  it  as  firmly  and  steadily  as  I 
could." 

“ Dear  Valentine  ! " 

“Well,  would  you  believe  it?  directly  my  father  caught  the 
sound  of  your  name  he  turned  round  quite  hastily,  and,  like  a poor 
silly  thing,  I was  so  persuaded  that  every  one  must  be  as  much 
effected  as  myself  by  the  utterance  of  your  name,  that  I was  not 
surprised  to  see  my  father  start,  and  almost  tremble ; but  I evea 
thought  (though  that  surely  must  have  been  a mistake)  that  M- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


239 


Danglars  underwent  a similar  emotion.  He  almost  Immediately 
rose  and  took  his  leave  ; then,  for  the  first  time,  I observed  the 
agitation  of  my  grandfather,  and  I must  tell  you,  Maximilian,  that 
l am  the  only  person  capable  of  discerning  emotion  in  the  para- 
lyzed frame  of  my  poor  afflicted  relative.  And  I suspected  that 
the  emotion  in  his  presence  (for  no  one  ever  cares  to  refrain  from 
saying  and  doing  what  they  like  before  the  dear  old  man,  without 
the  smallest  regard  to  his  feelings)  had  made  a strong  impression 
on  his  mind  ; for,  naturally  enough,  it  must  have  pained  him  to 
hear  the  emperor  he  so  devotedly  loved  and  served  spoken  of  in 
that  depreciating  manner.” 

“The  name  of  M.  Noirtier,”  interposed  Maximilian,  "is  cele- 
brated throughout  Europe  ; he  was  a statesman  of  high  standing  ; 
and  I know  not  whether  you  are  aware,  Valentine,  that  he  took  a 
leading  part  in  every  Bonapartean  conspiracy  set  on  foot  during 
the  restoration  of  the  Bourbons.” 

“Oh,  I have  often  heard  whispers  of  things  that  seem  tome 
most  strange — the  father  a Bonapartist,  the  son  a Royalist  ; what 
can  have  been  the  reason  of  so  singular  a difference  in  parties  and 
politics  ? But  to  resume  my  story  ; I turned  towards  my  grand- 
father, as  though  to  question  him  as  to  the  cause  of  his  emotion  ; 
he  looked  expressively  at  the  newspaper  I had  been  reading. 
4 What  is  the  matter,  dear  grandfather  ? * said  I,  4 are  you 
pleased  ? ’ He  gave  me  a sign  in  the  affirmative.  * Oh,  then,  you 
were  glad  to  hear  that  M.  Morrel  (I  dared  not  pronounce  the  dear 
name  of  Maximilian)  had  been  made  an  officer  of  the  Legion  of 
Honor  ; was  that  it,  dear  grandpapa  ? * He  signified  assent  in  a 
way  that  convinced  me  he  was  more  than  glad — that  he  was  de- 
lighted ; only  think  of  the  poor  old  man’s  being  so  pleased  to  think 
that  you,  who  were  a perfect  stranger  to  him,  had  been  made  an 
officer  of  the  Legion  of  Honor!  Perhaps,  though,  it  was  a mere 
whim  on  his  part,  for  he  is  almost  falling  into  a second  childhood  ! 
but,  for  all  that,  I love  him  dearly,  and  pray  that  he  may  long  be 
spared  to  me.” 

“ How  singular,”  murmured  Maximilian. 

44  Hush!  ” cried  Valentine,  suddenly,  “ conceal  yourself! — Go, 
go!  Some  one  comes!”  Maximilian  leaped  at  one  bound  into 
his  crop  of  lucerne,  which  he  commenced  pulling  up  in  the  most 
pitiless  manner,  under  the  pretext  of  being  occupied  in  weeding  it. 

44  Mademoiselle  ! mademoiselle  ! ” exclaimed  a voice  from  be- 
hind the  trees.  44  Madame  is  searching  for  you  everywhere  ; there 
are  visitors  in  the  drawing-room.” 

44 Who  is  it!”  inquired  Valentine,  much  agitated,  44  are  they 
ladies?  ” 

44  Oh,  no,  mademoiselle  ! I believe  it  is  some  grand  prince,  or  a 
duke,  or  a king,  perhaps ; stay,  now  I remember,  they  said  he  was 
the  Count  of  Mcnte-Cristo,  and  that  he  wished  particularly  to  see 

you.” 


240 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


44  I will  come  directly,**  said  Valentine  aloud.  The  name  caused 
an  electric  shock  to  the  individual  on  the  other  side  of  the  iron 
gate,  on  whose  ear  the  1 I vjuill  co)ne  f ” of  Valentine  sounded  the 
usual  parting  knell  of  all  their  interviews.  44  Now,  then,*’  said 
Maximilian,  as,  tired  with  his  unusual  employment,  he  stopped  to 
rest  himself,  by  leaning  on  the  handle  of  a spade  he  had  taken 
care  to  furnish  himself  with,  “ would  I give  much  to  know  how  it 
comes  about  that  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  is  acquainted  with  M. 
de  Villefort.’* 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

TOXICOLOGY. 

It  was  really  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  who  had  just  arrived 
at  Mdme.  de  Villefort’s  for  the  purpose  of  returning  her  husband’s 
visit,  and  at  this  name,  as  may  be  easily  imagined,  the  whole  house 
was  in  confusion.  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  who  was  alone  in  her 
drawing-room  when  the  count  was  announced,  desired  that  her 
son  might  be  brought  thither  instantly  to  renew  his  thanks  to  the 
count ; and  Edward,  who  heard  nothing  and  nobody  talked  of  for 
two  whole  days  but  this  great  personage,  made  all  possible  haste 
to  come  to  him,  not  from  obedience  to  his  mother,  not  from  any 
feeling  of  gratitude  to  the  count,  but  from  sheer  curiosity,  and  that 
he  might  make  some  remark,  by  help  of  which  he  might  find  an 
opportunity  for  saying  one  of  those  saucy  quips  which  made  his 
mother  say, — 44  Oh,  that  sad  child  ! but  pray  excuse  him,  he  is 
really  so  acute.” 

After  the  first  and  usual  civilities,  the  count  inquired  after  M.  de 
Villefort.  44  My  husband  dines  with  the  chancellor,”  replied  the 
young  lady  ; 44  he  has  just  gone,  and  I am  sure  he’ll  be  exceed- 
ingly sorry  not  to  have  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  before  he 
went.”  Two  visitors  who  were  there  when  the  count  arrived, 
having  gazed  at  him  with  all  their  eyes,  retired  after  that  reason- 
able delay  which  politeness  admits  and  curiosity  requires.  44  Ah  ! 
what  is  your  sister  Valentine  doing?”  inquired  Mdme.  de  Ville- 
fort of  Edward  ; 44  tell  some  one  to  bid  her  come  here,  that  I may 
have  the  honor  of  introducing  her  to  the  count.** 

44  You  have  a daughter,  then,  madame  ? ” inquired  the  count ; 
44  very  young,  I presume?  ” 

44  The  daughter  of  M.  de  Villefort,**  replied  the  young  wife, 44  by 
his  first  marriage,  a fine  well-grown  girl.” 

14  But  glum,’"  interrupted  Master  Edward,  snatching  the  feathers 
put  of  the  tail  of  a splendid  parroquet  that  was  screaming  on  its 
gilded  perch,  in  order  to  make  a plume  for  his  hat.  Mdme.  de 
Villefort  merely  cried, — 44  Silence,  Edward  ! **  She  then  added. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1ST0. 


24I 


r-u  This  young  madcap  is,  however,  very  nearly  right,  and  merely 
re-echoes  what  he  has  heard  me  say  with  pain  a hundred  times  ; 
for  Mademoiselle  de  Villefort  is,  in  spite  of  all  we  can  do  to  rouse 
her,  of  a melancholy  disposition  and  taciturn  habit,  which  fre- 
quently injure  the  effect  of  her  beauty.  But  what  detains  her?  go, 
Edward,  and  see.” 

“ Because  they  are  looking  for  her  where  she  is  not  to  be 
found.” 

••  And  where  are  they  looking  for  her  ?’* 

“ With  grandpapa  Noirtier,” 

“ And  do  you  think  she  is  not  there  ? ” 

44  She  is  under  the  great  chestnut-tree, ’*  replied  the  spoiled  brat, 
as  he  gave,  in  spite  of  his  mother’s  cries,  live  flies  to  the  parrot. 
Mdme.  de  Villefort  stretched  out  her  hand  to  ring,  intending  to 
direct  her  waiting-maid  to  the  spot  where  she  would  find  Valentine, 
when  the  young  lady  herself  entered  the  apartment.  She  ap- 
peared much  dejected  ; and  any  person  who  considered  her  at- 
tentively might  have  observed  the  traces  of  recent  tears  in  her 
eyes. 

Valentine  was  a tall  and  graceful  girl  of  nineteen  years  of  age, 
with  bright  chestnut  hair,  deep  blue  eyes,  and  that  languishing 
air  so  full  of  distinction  which  characterized  her  mother.  Her 
white  and  slender  fingers,  her  pearly  neck,  her  cheeks  tinted  with 
varying  hues,  gave  her  at  the  first  view  the  aspect  of  one  of  those 
lovely  Englishwomen  who  have  been  so  poetically  compared  in 
their  manner  to  a swan  admiring  itself.  She  entered  the  apart- 
ment, and  seeing  near  her  stepmother  the  stranger  of  whom  she 
had  already  heard  so  much,  saluted  him  without  any  girlish  awk- 
wardness, or  even  lowering  her  eyes,  and  with  an  elegance  that 
redoubled  the  count’s  attention.  He  rose  to  return  the  salutation. 
“ Mdlle.  de  Villefort,  my  daughter-in-law,”  said  Mdme.  de  Villefort 
to  Monte-Cristo,  leaning  back  on  her  sofa  and  motioning  toward 
Valentine  with  her  hand. 

“And  Lord  Monte-Cristo,  king  of  China,  emperor  of  Cochin- 
China,”  said  the  young  imp,  looking  slyly  towards  his  sister. 

Mdme.  de  Villefort  at  this  really  did  turn  pale,  and  was  very 
nearly  angry  with  this  household  plague,  who  answered  to  the 
name  of  Edward  ; but  the  count,  on  the  contrary,  smiled,  and  ap- 
peared to  look  at  the  boy  complacently,  which  caused  the  mater- 
nal heart  to  bound  again  with  joy  and  enthusiasm. 

“But,  madame,”  replied  the  count,  continuing  the  conversation, 
and  looking  by  turns  at  Mdme.  de  Villefort  and  Valentine,  “have 
I not  already  had  the  honor  of  meeting  you  before  ? I could  not 
help  thinking  so  just  now  ; the  idea  came  over  my  mind,  and  as 
the  young  lady  entered  the  sight  of  her  was  an  additional  ray  of 
light  thrown  on  a confused  remembrance  ; excuse  me  the  re- 
mark.”  “ I do  not  think  it  likely,  sir  * Mdlle.  de  Villefort  is 


ID 


242 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


r. ot  very  fond  of  society,  and  we  very  seldom  go  out,”  said  the 
young  lady. 

44  Then  it  was  not  in  society  that  I met  with  you  or  madame,  or 
this  charming  little  merry  boy.  Besides,  the  Parisian  world  is 
entirely  unknown  to  me,  for,  as  I believe  I told  you,  I have  been 
in  Paris  but  very  few  days.  No, — but,  perhaps,  you  will  permit 
me  to  call  to  mind — stay  ! ” The  count  placed  his  hand  on  his 
brow  as  if  to  collect  his  thoughts.  44  No — it  was  somewhere — 
away  from  here — it  was  at  Perusa  on  a holiday,  when  chance 
brought  us  together  ; you,  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  and  your  son  ; i 
now  remember  having  had  the  honor  of  meeting  you.” 

4 4 1 perfectly  well  remember  Perusa,  sir,  and  the  Hotel,  and  the 
feast  to  which  you  allude,”  said  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  44  but  in  vain 
do  I tax  my  memory,  of  whose  treachery  I am  ashamed,  for  I 
really  do  not  recall  to  mind  that  I ever  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
you  before.” 

44 1 will  assist  your  memory,  madame,”  continued  the  count; 
44  the  day  had  been  burning  hot;  you  were  waiting  for  horses, 
whieh  were  delayed  in  consequence  of  the  festival.  This  lady  was 
walking  in  the  shade  of  the  garden,  and  your  son  disappeared  in 
pursuit  of  a bird.” 

44  And  I caught  it,  mamma  don’t  you  remember  ? ” interrupted 
Edward,  44  and  I pulled  three  such  beautiful  feathers  out  his  tail.” 

44  You,  madame,  remained  under  the  arbor  formed  by  the  vine  ; 
do  you  not  remember,  that  whilst  you  were  seated  on  a stone 
bench,  and  whilst  as  I told  you,  Mdlle.  de  Villefort  and  your  young 
son  were  absent,  you  conversed  for  a considerable  time  with  some- 
body ? ” 

44  Yes,  in  truth,  yes,”  answered  the  young  lady,  turning  very 
red,  44 1 do  remember  conversing  with  an  individual  wrapped  in  a 
long  woollen  mantle  ; he  was  a medical  man,  I think.” 44  Pre- 

cisely so,  madame  ; this  man  was  myself ; for  a fortnight  I had 
been  at  that  hotel,  during  which  period  I had  cured  my  valet-de- 
chambre  of  a fever,  and  my  landlord  of  the  jaundice,  so  that  I 
really  acquired  a reputation  as  a skilful  physician.  We  discoursed 
a long  time,  madame,  on  different  subjects ; of  Perugino,  of 
Raffaelle,  of  manners,  customs,  of  the  famous  aquatofanat  of 
which  they  had  told  you,  I think  you  said,  that  individuals  in 
Perusa  had  preserved  the  secret.” 

44  Yes,  true,”  replied  Madame  de  Villefort,  with  a kind  of  un- 
easiness, 44 1 remember  now.” 

44  I do  not  recollect  now  all  the  various  subjects  of  which  we 
discoursed,  madame,”  continued  the  count,  with  perfect  calm- 
ness ; 44  but  I perfectly  remember  that,  falling  into  the  error  which 
others  had  entertained  respecting  me,  you  consulted  me  as  to  the 

health  of  Mdlle.  de  Villefort.” 44  Yes,  really,  sir,  you  were  in 

facta  medical  man,”  said  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  44 since  you  had 
cured  the  sick.” 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRIS'TO.  243 

«•  A wit  would  reply  to  you,  madame,  that  it  was  precisely  be- 
cause I was  not,  that  I had  cured  my  patients  ; for  myself,  I am 
content  to  say  to  you  that  I have  studied  chemistry  and  the  natural 
sciences  somewhat  deeply,  but  still  only  as  an  amateur,  you  under- 
stand.”-  At  this  moment  the  clock  struck  six.  “It  is  six 

o’clock,”  said  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  evidently  agitated.  “Valen- 
tine, will  you  not  go  and  see  if  your  grandpapa  will  have  his  din- 
ner ? ” Valentine  rose,  and  saluting  the  count,  left  the  apartment 
without  replying  a single  word. 

“ Oh,  madame  ! ” said  the  count,  when  Valentine  had  left  the 
room,  “was  it  on  my  account  that  you  sent  Mdlle.  de  Villefort 
away  ? ’ ’ 

“By  no  means,”  replied  the  lady  quickly  ; “but  this  is  the  hour 
when  we  give  to  M.  Noirtier  the  repast  which  supports  his  sad  ex- 
istence. You  are  aware,  sir,  of  the  deplorable  condition  of  my 
husband’ s father  ? ’ ’ 

“Yes,  madame,  M.  de  Villefort  spoke  of  it  to  me — paralysis,  I 
think.” 

“ Alas,  yes  ! there  is  an  entire  want  of  movement  in  the  frame 
of  the  poor  old  gentleman  ; the  mind  alone  is  still  active  in  this 
human  machine,  and  that  is  faint  and  flickering,,  like  the  light  of  a 
lamp  about  to  expire.  But  excuse  me,  sir,  for  talking  of  our  do- 
mestic misfortunes  ; I interrupted  you  at  the  moment  when  you 
were  telling  me  that  you  were  a skilful  chemist.” 

“ No,  madame,  I did  not  say  so  much  as  that,”  replied  the 
count,  with  a smile  ; “ quite  the  contrary.  I have  studied  chem- 
istry because,  having  determined  to  live  in  eastern  climates,  I have 
been  desirous  of  following  the  example  of  King  Mithridates.” 

Mithridates,  rex  Ponticus ,”  said  the  young  scamp,  as  he  tore 
some  beautiful  portraits  out  of  a splendid  album,  “the  individual 
who  breakfasted  every  morning  with  a cup  of  poison.” 

“ Edward,  you  naughty  boy  ! ” exclaimed  Mdme.  de  Villefort, 
snatching  the  mutilated  book  from  the  urchin’s  grasp ; “you  are 
positively  past  bearing  ; you  really  disturb  the  conversation  : go, 
leave  us,  and  join  your  sister  Valentine  in  dear  grandpapa  Noir- 
tier’s  room.” 

“ The  album,”  said  Edward,  sulkily. 

“ How  dare  you  tear  out  the  drawings?” 

} “ Oh,  it  amuses  me.” “ Go — go  directly.” 

“ I won’t  go  unless  you  give  me  the  album,”  said  the  boy,  seat- 
ing himself  doggedly  in  an  arm-chair,  according  to  his  habit  of 

never  giving  way. “Take  it,  then,  and  pray  disturb  us  no 

longer,”  said  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  giving  the  album  to  Edward, 
who  then  went  toward  the  door,  led  by  his  mother.  The  count 
followed  her  with  his  eyes. 

“ Let  us  see  if  she  shuts  the  door  after  him,”  he  muttered. 
Mdme.  de  Villefort  closed  the  door  carefully  after  the  child,  the 
count  appearing  not  to  notice  her;  then  casting  a scrutinizing 


V P / P P I t 

1 h /*  /I  i»  i „» 

(244  75WE1  COl/JVT  OF  MONTE  GETS  TO. 

glance  around  the  chamber  ; the  young  wife  returned  to  her  chair, 
in  which  she  seated  herself.  “Allow  me  to  observe,  madame,” 
said  the  count,  with  that  kind  tone  he  could  assume  so  w.ell,  “ you 

are  really  very  severe  with  that  dear  clever  child.” “Oh, 

sometimes  severity  is  quite  necessary,”  replied  Mdme.  de  Ville- 
fort,  with  all  a mother’s  real  firmness. 

“It  was  his  Cornelius  Nepos  that  Master  Edward  was  repeating 
when  he  referred  to  King  Mithridates,”  continued  the  count,  “ and 
you  interrupted  him  in  a quotation  which  proves  that  his  tutor  has 
by  no  means  neglected  him,  for  your  son  is  really  advanced  for 
his  years.” 

“The  fact  is,”  answered  the  mother,  agreeably  flattered,  “he 
has  great  aptitude,  and  learns  all  that  is  set  before  him.  He  has 
but  one  fault,  he  is  somewhat  wilful  ; but  really,  on  referring  for 
the  moment  to  what  he  said,  do  you  truly  believe  that  Mithridates 
used  these  precautions,  and  that  these  precautions  were  effica- 
cious? ” 

“ I think  so,  madame,  because  I — I,  who  now  address  you,  have 
made  use  of  them,  that  I might  not  be  poisoned  at  Naples,  at  Pal- 
ermo, and  at  Smyrna — that  is  to  say,  on  three  several  occasions  of 
my  life,  when,  but  for  these  precautions,  I must  have  lost  my 
life.” 

“ Yes,  I remember  now  your  mentioning  <o  me  at  Perusa  some- 
thing of  this  sort.” 

“Indeed!  did  I?”  said  the  count,  with  an  air  of  surprise,  re- 
markably well  counterfeited  *,  “I  really  did  not  remember  it.” 

“ I inquired  of  you  if  poisons  acted  equally,  and  with  the  same 
effect,  on  men  of  the  North  as  on  men  of  the  South  ; and  you  an- 
swered me  that  the  cold  and  sluggish  habits  of  the  North  did  not 
present  the  same  aptitude  as  the  rich  and  energetic  temperaments 
of  the  natives  of  the  South.” 

“And  that  is  the  case,”  observed  Monte-Cristo,  “but  I per- 
ceive I have  not  much  to  teach  you.  Allow  me  to  compliment  you 
on  your  knowledge  ; such  learning  is  very  rare  amongst  ladies.” 

“ Oh,  I am  aware  of  that,”  said  Mdme.  de  Villefort ; “ but  I have 
a passion  for  the  occult  sciences,  which  speak  to  the  imagination 
like  poetry,  the  two  favorite  studies  of  my  youth  were  botany  and 
mineralogy ; and  subsequently,  when  I learned  that  the  use  of 
simples  frequently  explained  the  whole  history  of  a people,  and  the 
entire  life  of  individuals  in  the  East,  as  flowers  betoken  and  sym- 
bolize a love  affair,  I have  regretted  I was  not  a man,  that  I might 
have  been  a Flamel,  a Fontana,  or  a Cabanis.” 

“And  the  more,  madame,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  “ as  the  Orien- 
tals do  not  confine  themselves,  as  did  Mithridates,  to  make  a cuir- 
ass of  his  poisons,  but  they  also  make  them  a dagger.  Science 
becomes,  in  their  hands,  not  only  a defensive  weapon,  but  still 
more  frequently  an  offensive  one  ; the  one  serves  against  all  their 
physical  sufferings/  the  other  against  all  their  enemies;  with 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRfSTO.  345 

opium,  with  belladonna,  with  brucaed,  snake-wood,  the  cheny- 
laurel,  they  put  to  sleep  all  those  who  would  arouse  them/' 

“Then,”  remarked  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  “ they  have  discovered 
the  secret  of  the  famous  aqua-tofana  at  Perusa.” 

“ Eh,  indeed,  does  mankind  ever  lose  anything  ? The  arts  are 
removed,  and  make  a tour  of  the  world  ; — things  change  their 
names,  and  the  vulgar  do  not  follow  them — that  is  all ; but  there 
is  always  the  same  result.  Poison  acts  particularly  on  one  orgaix 
or  the  other — one  on  the  stomach,  another  on  the  brain,  another 
on  the  irtestines.  Well,  the  poison  brings  on  a cough,  the  cough 
an  inflammation  of  the  lungs,  or  some  other  complaint  catalogued 
in  the  bo)k  of  science,  which,  however,  by  no  means  precludes  it 
from  ben  g mortal ; and  if  it  were  not,  would  be  sure  to  become 
so,  thank  ! to  the  remedies  applied  by  foolish  doctors,  who  are 
generally  bad  chemists,  and  which  will  act  in  favor  of  or  against 
the  mabdy,  as  you  please  ; and  then  there  is  a human  being  killed 
according  to  all  the  rules  of  art  and  skill,  and  of  whom  justice 
learns  nothing,  as  was  said  by  a terrible  chemist  of  my  acquaint- 
ance, tb>  worthy  Abbe  Adelmonte  of  Taormine,  in  Sicily,  who 
has  studied  these  national  phenomena  very  profoundly.” 

“It  quite  frightful,  but  deeply  interesting,”  said  the  young 
lady,  p^tionless  with  attention.  “ I thought,  I must  confess,  that 

these  typiles  were  inventions  of  the  middle  ages.” “ Yes,  no 

doubt*  but  improved  upon  by  ours.  What  is  the  use  of  time, 
encouragements,  medals,  crosses,  Monthyon  prizes,  &c.,  &c.,  if 
they  not  lead  society  toward  more  complete  perfection  ? Yet 
man  will  never  be  perfect  until  he  learns  to  create  and  destroy : 
he  dms  know  how  to  destroy,  and  that  is  half  way  on  the  road.” 

“ &>o,”  added  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  constantly  returning  to  her 
object,  11  the  poisons  of  the  Borgias.” 

“ Were  objects  of  art,  madame,  and  nothing  more,”  replied  the 
count.  “ Do  you  suppose  that  the  real  savant  addresses  himself 
stu^dly  to  the  mere  individual?  By  no  means.  Science  loves  ec- 
centricities, leaps  and  bounds,  trials  of  strength,  fancies,  if  I may 
be  allowed  so  to  term  them.” 

“ But,”  said  she,  “ however  skilfully  it  is  prepared,  crime  is  al- 
ways crime  ; and  if  it  avoid  human  scrutiny,  it  does  not  escape  the 
of  God.  The  Orientals  are  stronger  than  we  are  in  cases  of 
c'  nscience,  and,  very  prudently,  have  no  hell — that  is  the  point.” 
“ Really,  madame,  this  is  a scruple  which  naturally  must  occur 
a pure,  mind  like  yours,  but  which  would  easily  yield  before 
round  reasoning.  The  bad  side  of  human  thought  will  always  be 
'lefined  by  the  paradox  of  Rousseau,  you  know,  the  mandarin  who 
s killed  at  500  leagues  distance  by  raising  the  tip  of  the  finger. 
Man’s  whole  life  passes  in  doing  these  things,  and  his  intellect  is 
exhausted  by  reflecting  on  them.  You  will  find  very  few  persons 
who  will  go  and  brutally  thrust  a knife  in  the  heart  of  a fellow- 
creature,  or  will  administer  to  him,  in  order  to  remove  him  from 


246  THE  T OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

the  surface  of  the  globe  on  which  we  move  with  life  and  anima* 
tion,  that  quantity  of  arsenic  of  which  we  just  now  talked.  Such  a 
thing  is  really  out  of  rule — eccentric  or  stupid.  But  if  instead  of  com- 
mitting an  ignoble  assassination,  if  you  merely  and  simply  remove 
from  your  path  the  individual  who  is  in  your  way,  and  that  with- 
out shock  or  violence  ; if  there  be  no  blood,  no  groans,  no  con- 
vulsions, and,  above  all,  that  horrid  and  compromising  moment  of 
accomplishing  the  act,  then  one  escapes  the  clutch  of  the  human 
law,  which  says  to  you,  4 Do  not  disturb  society  ! ’ This  is  the 
mode  in  which  they  manage  these  things,  and  succeed  in  eastern 
climes,  where  there  are  grave  and  phlegmatic  persons  who  care 
very  little  for  the  questions  of  time  in  conjunctures  of  importance.’ * 

44  Yet  conscience  remains?  ” remarked  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  in  an 
agitated  voice,  and.  with  a stifled  sigh. 

41  Yes,”  answered  Monte-Cristo,  “happily,  yes,  conscience  does 
remain  ; and  if  it  did  not,  how  wretched  we  should  be  ! After 
every  action  requiring  exertion,  it  is  conscience  that  save  us,  for  it 
supplies  us  with  a thousand  good  excuses,  of  which  we  alone  are 
judges  ; and  these  reasons,  how  excellent  soever  in  producing 
sleep,  would  avail  us  but  very  little  before  a tribunal,  when  we 
were  tried  for  our  lives. 

44  Thus  was  Lady  Macbeth  served  by  her  conscience,  when  she 
sought  to  give  her  son,  and  not  her  husband  (whatever  Shaks- 
peare  may  say),  a throne.  Ah,  maternal  love  is  a great  virtue,  a 
powerful  motive — so  powerful  that  it  excuses  a multitude  of  things, 
even  if,  after  Duncan’s  death,  Lady  Macbeth  had  been  at  all 
pricked  by  her  conscience.” 

Mdme.  de  Villefort  listened  with  avidity  to  these  appalling 
maxims  and  horrible  paradoxes,  delivered  by  the  count  with  that 
ironical  simplicity  peculiar  to  him.  After  a moment’s  silence,  the 
lady  inquired,  44  Do  you  know,”  she  said,  44  that  you  are  a very 
terrible  reasoner,  and  that  you  look  at  the  world  through  a some- 
what distempered  medium  ? Have  you  really  measured  the 
world  by  scrutinies,  or  through  alembics  and  crucibles  ? F or, 
truth  to  say,  you  are  a great  chemist,  and  the  elixir  you  adminis- 
tered to  my  son,  which  recalled  him  to  life  almost  instantan- 
eously  ” 

44  Oh,  do  not  place  any  reliance  on  that,  madame  ; one  drop  of 
that  elixir  sufficed  to  recall  life  to  a dying  child,  but  three  drops 
would  have  impelled  the  blood  into  his  lungs  in  such  a way  as  to 
have  produced  most  violent  palpitation  ; six  would  have  suspended 
his  respiration,  and  caused  cyncope  more  serious  than  that  in 
which  he  was ; ten  would  have  destroyed  him.  You  know, 
madame,  how  suddenly  I snatched  him  from  those  phials  which 
he  so  imprudently  touched  ?” 

44  Is  it,  then,  so  terrible  a poison  ?” 

44  Oh,  no  ! In  the  first  place,  let  us  agree  that  the  word  poison 
does  not  exist,  because  in  medicine  use  is  made  of  the  most  violent 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTH  C FIS  TO.  \ | 

poisons,  which  become,  according  as  they  are  made  use  of.  most 
salutary  remedies.” 

“What,  then,  is  it?” 

A skilful  preparation  of  my  friend’s  the  worthy  Abbe  Adelmonte, 
who  taught  me  the  use  of  it.” 

“As  for  me,  so  nervous,  and  so  subject  to  fainting-fits,  I should 
require  a Doctor  Adelmonte  to  invent  for  me  some  means  of 
breathing  freely  and  tranquillizing  my  mind,  in  the  fear  I have  of 
dying  some  fine  day  of  suffocation.  In  the  meanwhile,  as  the 
thing  is  difficult  to  find  in  France,  and  your  abbe  is  not  probably 
disposed  to  make  a journey  to  Paris  on  my  account,  I must  con- 
tinue to  use  the  anti-spasmodics  of  M.  Planche  ; and  mint  and 
Hoffman’s  drops  are  amongst  my  favorite  remedies.” 

“ But  I,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  rising  as  he  spoke — “I  am  gallant 
enough  to  offer  it  you.” 

“Oh,  sir!  ” 

“Only  remember  one  thing — a small  dose  is  a remedy,  a large 
one  is  poison.  One  drop  will  restore  life,  as  you  have  witnessed; 
five  or  six  will  inevitably  kill,  and  in  a way  the  more  terrible  inas- 
much as,  poured  into  a glass  of  wine,  in  would  not  in  the  slightest 
degree  affect  its  flavor.  But  I say  no  more,  madame  ; it  is  really 
as  if  I were  advising  you.”  The  clock  struck  half-past  six,  and  a 
lady  was  announced,  a friend  of  Mdme.  de  Villefort  who  came  to 

dine  with  her. “ If  I had  the  honor  of  seeing  you  for  the  third 

or  fourth  time,  instead  of  only  for  the  second,”  said  Mdme.  de 
Villefort ; “ if  your  friend,  instead  of  only  yours  under  an  obliga- 
tion I should  insist  on  detaining  you  to  dinner,  and  not  allow  my- 
self to  be  daunted  by  a first  refusal.” 

“A  thousand  thanks,  madame,”  replied  Monse-Cristo,  “but  I 
have  an  engagement  which  I cannot  break  : I have  promised  to 
escort  to  the  Academie  a Greek  princess  of  my  acquaintance  who 
has  never  seen  your  grand  opera,  and  who  relies  on  me  to  conduct 
her  thither.” 

Adieu,  then,  sir,  and  do  not  forget  my  recipe.” 

***Ah,  in  truth,  madame,  to  do  that  I must  forget  the  hour’s  con- 
versation I have  had  with  you,  which  is  indeed  impossible.” 
Monte-Cristo  bowed  and  left  the  house.  Mdme.  de  Villefort  re- 
mained immersed  in  thought.  “ He  is  a very  strange  man,”  she 
said,  “ and  in  my  opinion  is  himself  the  Adelmonte  he  talks 
about.”  As  to  Monte-Cristo,  the  result  had  surpassed  his  utmost 
expectations.  “Good!”  said  he,  as  he  went  away;  “ this  is  a 
fruitful  soil,  and  I feel  certain  that  the  seed  sown  will  not  be  cast 
on  barren  ground.”  Next  morning,  faithful  to  bjs  promise,  he  sen* 
the  prescription  requested. 


TJtfE  COlf ATT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE  OPERA. 

The  pretext  of  an  opera  engagement  was  so  much  the  more 
feasible,  as  there  chanced  to  be  on  that  very  night  a more  than 
ordinary  attraction  at  the  opera. 

The  curtain  rose,  as  usual,  to  an  almost  empty  house,  it  being 
one  of  the  absurdities  of  Parisian  fashion  never  to  appear  at  the 
opera  until  after  the  commencement  of  the  performances.  Finally, 
the  door  of  the  state  box  opened,  and  Mdme.  Danglars,  accom- 
panied by  her  daughter,  entered,  escorted  by  Lucien  Debray,  who 
assiduously  conducted  them  to  their  seats. 

“Ha,  ha ! ” said  Chateau-Renaud,  “ here  come  some  friends  of 
yours,  viscount!  What  are  you  looking  at  there  ? don’t  you  see 
they  are  trying  to  catch  your  eye  ? ” Albert  turned  round,  just  in 
time  to  receive  a gracious  wave  of  the  fan  from  the  Baroness  ; as 
for  Mdlle.  Eugenie,  she  scarcely  vouchsafed  to  waste  the  glances  of 
her  black  eyes  even  upon  the  business  of  the  stage.  “ I tell  you 
what,  my  dear  fellow,”  said  Chateau-Renaud,  “ I cannot  imagine 
what  objection  you  can  possibly  have  to  Mdlle.  Danglars — that  is, 
setting  aside  her  want  of  ancestry  and  somewhat  inferior  rank, 
which,  by  the  way,  I don’t  think  you  care  very  much  about. 
Now,  barring  all  that,  I mean  to  say  she  is  a deuced  fine  girl!  ” 

“ Handsome,  certainly,”  replied  Albert,  “ but  not  to  my  taste, 
which  I confess,  inclines  to  a softer,  gentler,  and  more  feminine 
style  than  that  possessed  by  the  young  lady  in  question.” 

“Bless  my  heart!”  exclaimed  Chateau-Renaud,  who,  because 
he  had  seen  his  thirtieth  summer,  fancied  himself  duly  warranted 
in  assuming  a sort  of  paternal  air  with  his  more  youthful  friend, 
“ you  young  people  are  never  satisfied : why,  what  would  you 
have  more?  your  parents  have  chosen  you  a bride  who  might 
serve  as  the  living  model  of  Diana,  and  yet  you  are  not  content.” 

“No,  for  that  very  resemblance  affrights  me  ; I should  have 
liked  something  more  in  the  manner  of  the  Venus  of  Milo  or 
Capua  ; but  this  Diana,  continually  surrounded  by  her  nymphs, 
gives  me  a sort  of  alarm,  lest  she  should  some  day  entail  on  me 
the  fate  of  Actaeon.” 

And,  indeed,  it  required  but  one  glance  of  Mdlle.  Danglars  to 
comprehend  the  justness,  as  well  as  nature,  of  Morcerf’s  re- 
mark— “she  was  certainly  handsome,”  but  her  beauty  was  of 
too  marked  and  decided  a character  to  please  a fastidious  taster 
But  that  which  completed  the  almost  masculine  look  Mores*4 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  C KIOTO. 


249 


/bund  so  little  to  his  taste,  was  a dark  mole,  of  muc_  larger  dimen- 
sions than  these  freaks  of  nature  generally  are,  placed  just  at  the 
corner  of  her  mouth  ; and  the  effect  tended  to  increase  the  ex- 
pression of  unbending  resolution  and  self-dependence  that  formed 
the  characteristics  of  her  countenance.  The  rest  of  Eugenie’s 
person  was  in  perfect  keeping  with  the  head  just  described  ; she, 
indeed,  reminded  you  of  Diana,  as  Chateau-Renaud  observed, 
but  with  a more  haughty  and  resolute  air.  As  regarded  her  attain- 
ments, the  only  fault  to  be  found  with  them  was  the  same  that  a 
fastidious  connoisseur  might  have  found  with  her  beauty,  that 
they  were  somewhat  too  erudite  and  masculine  for  so  young  a 
person. 

The  curtain  fell  almost  immediately  after  the  entrance  of  Mdme. 
Danglars  into  her  box,  the  band  quitted  the  orchestra  for  the  ac- 
customed half-hour’s  interval  allowed  between  the  acts,  and  the 
audience  were  left  at  liberty  to  promenade  or  pay  and  receive 
visits  in  their  respective  boxes.  Morcerf  and  Chateau-Renaud 
were  amongst  the  first  to  avail  themselves  of  this  permission.  For 
an  instant  the  idea  struck  Mdme.  Danglars  that  this  eagerness  on 
the  part  of  the  young  viscount  arose  from  his  impatience  to  join 
her  party,  and  she  whispered  her  expectations  to  her  daughter, 
that  Albert  was  hurrying  to  pay  his  respects  to  them.  Eugenie, 
however,  merely  returned  a dissenting  movement  of  the  head, 
while,  with  a cold  smile,  she  directed  the  attention  of  her  mother 
to  an  opposite  box,  situated  on  the  first  circle,  in  which  sat  the 
Countess  Guiccioli,  and  where  Morcerf  had  just  made  his  ap- 
pearance. 11  So  we  meet  again,  my  traveling  friend,  do  we?” 
cried  the  countess,  extending  her  hand  to  him  with  all  the  warmth 
and  cordiality  of  an  old  acquaintance  ; 4 'it  was  really  very  good 
of  you  to  recognize  me  so  quickly,  and  still  more  so  to  bestow  your 
first  visit  on  me.” 

44  Be  assured,”  replied  Albert,  41  that  if  I had  been  aware  of 
your  arrival  in  Paris,  and  had  known  your  address,  I should  have 
paid  my  respects  to  you  long  ere  this.  Allow  me  to  introduce  my 
friend,  Baron  de  Chateau-Renaud,  one  of  the  rare  specimens  of 
real  gentlemen  now  to  be  found  in  France,  and  from  whom  I have 
just  learned  that  you  were  a spectator  of  the  races  in  the  Champ- 
de-Mars,  yesterday.” 

44  Well,  then,”  pursued  Madame  G , with  considerable 

animation,  44  you  can  probably  tell  me  to  whom  belonged  the 
Winner  of  the  Jockey-Club  stakes?” 

44 1 am’ sorry  to  say  I cannot,”  replied  the  baron  ; 44 and  I was 
just  asking  the  same  question  of  my  friend  Albert.” 

44  You  must  know  I felt  so  interested  for  the  splendid  roan  horse, 
with  his  elegant  little  rider,  so  tastefully  dressed  in  a pink  satin 
jacket  and  cap,  that  I could  not  help  praying  for  their  success 
with  as  much  earnestness  as  though  the  half  of  my  fortune  were  at 
Stake  ; and  when  I saw  them  outstrip  all  the  others,  and  come  to 


250 


THE  COUNT  OF  MUJMTE  CRTS  TO. 


the  winning-post  in  such  a gallant  style,  I actually  clapped  my 
hands  with  joy.  Imagine  my  surprise,  when,  upon  returning 
home,  the  first  object  I met  on  the  staircase  was  the  identical 
jockey  in  the  pink  jacket ! I concluded  that,  by  some  singular 
chance,  the  owner  of  the  winning  horse  must  live  in  the  same 
hotel  as  myself ; but,  lo  ! as  I entered  my  apartments  I beheld  the 
very  gold  cup  awarded  as  a prize  to  the  unknown  horse  and  rider. 
Inside  the  cup  was  a small  piece  of  paper,  on  which  were  written 
these  words — • From  Lord  Ruthven  to  Countess  Guiccioli.’  ” 

“ Precisely  ; I was  sure  of  it,”  said  Morcerf,  “ the  owner  of  the 
horse  was  Lord  Ruthven,  our  Lord  Ruthven — the  Vampire  of  the 
Argentino!  ” 

“ Mercy  upon  me  ! ” exclaimed  the  countess;  “ but  what  makes 
you  so  convinced  of  his  being  the  winner  of  the  Jockey-Club 
prize  ? ” 

“Was  not  the  winning  horse  entered  by  the  name  of  Vampa, 
the  name  of  the  celebrated  bandit  by  whom  I was  made  prisoner  ? 
Now  I argue  from  the  horse  and  bandit  bearing  the  same  singular 
name,  that  the  count  was  the  person  to  whom  the  unknown  horse 
belonged.” 

“ But  what  could  have  been  his  motive  for  sending  the  cup  to 
me?” 

“ In  the  first  place,  because  I had  spoken  much  of  you  to  him. 
as  you  may  believe  ; and  in  the  second,  because  he  delighted  to 
see  his  country-woman  take  so  lively  an  interest  in  his  success.” 

“ I trust  and  hope  you  never  repeated  to  the  count  all  the  foolish 
remarks  we  used  to  make  about  him  ? ” 

“ I should  not  like  to  affirm  upon  oath  that  I have  not.  Besides, 
his  presenting  you  the  cup  under  the  name  of  Lord  Ruthven  proves 
his  knowledge  of  the  comparison  instituted  between  himself  and 
that  individual.” 

“ And  so  this  singular  being  is  in  Paris  ? and  what  effect  does  he 
produce  ? ” 

“Why,”  said  Albert,  “certainly,  during  the  first  week  of  his 
arrival  here,  he  was  the  great  lion  of  the  day  ; nothing  else  was 
thought  of  or  talked  about  but  the  wonderful  Count  of  Monte- 
Cristo  and  his  extraordinary  actions  ; then  the  coronation  of  the 
Queen  of  England  took  place,  followed  almost  immediately  after- 
wards by  the  robbery  of  Mdlle.  Mars’  diamonds  ; and  two  such  in- 
teresting events  turned  public  attention  into  other  channels.” 

“ My  good  fellew,”  said  Chateau-Renaud,  “ the  count  happens 
to  be  so  great  a favorite  of  yours,  that  you  treat  him  as  carefully 
and  delicately  as  though  he  were  your  best  and  most  intimate 
friend.  Do  not  believe  what  Albert  is  telling  you,  madame ; so 
far  from  the  sensation  excited  in  the  Parisian  circles  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  having  abated,  I take  upon 
myself  to  declare  that  it  is  as  strong  as  ever.  His  first  astounding 
act  upon  coming  amongst  us  was  to  present  a pair  of  horses,  worth 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


251 


32,600  francs,  to  Mdme.  Danglars  ; his  second,  the  almost  miracu- 
lous preservation  of  Mdme.  de  Villefort’s  life  ; now  it  seems  that 
he  has  carried  off  the  prize  awarded  by  the  Jockey  Club  ! I there- 
fore assert  and  maintain,  in  despite  of  whatever  Morcerf  may  ad- 
vance, that  not  only  is  the  count  the  object  of  universal  remark, 
interest,  and  curiosity,  at  this  present  moment,  but  also  that  he 
will  continue  to  be  so  while  he  pleases  to  exhibit  an  eccentricity  of 
conduct  and  action  which,  after  all,  may  be  his  ordinary  mode  of 
amusing  himself  as  well  as  the  world.” 

At  this  moment  the  bell  rang  to  announce  the  drawing  up  of  the 
curtain  for  the  second  act. 

The  young  men  bowed,  and  quitted  the  box.  Upon  reaching 
their  stalls,  they  found  the  whole  of  the  audience  standing  up  and 
directing  their  gaze  towards  the  box  formerly  possessed  by  the 
ambassador  of  Russia.  Following  the  universal  example,  the 
friends  perceived  that  a gentleman  in  deep  black,  had  just  entered, 
accompanied  by  a female  dressed  after  the  Eastern  style  ; the  lady 
was  young  and  surpassingly  beautiful,  while  the  rich  magnificence 
of  her  attire  drew  all  eyes  upon  her.  “By  heavens!”  said 
Albert,  “ it  is  Monte-Cristo  himself,  with  his  fair  Greek  ! ” 

The  strangers  were,  indeed,  no  other  than  the  count  and 
Haydee.  The  sensation  excited  by  the  beauty  and  dazzling  ap- 
pearance of  the  latter  soon  communicated  itself  to  every  part  of  the 
theatre,  and  even  ladies  leaned  forward  from  the  boxes  to  admire 
the  superb  diamonds  worn  by  the  young  Greek  as  they  played  and 
glittered  among  the  cut-glass  lustres.  The  second  act  passed  away 
during  one  continued  buzz  of  voices — one  deep  whisper — intimat- 
ing that  some  great  and  universally-interesting  event  had  oc- 
curred ; all  eyes — all  thoughts  were  occupied  with  the  young  and 
beautiful  female,  whose  gorgeous  apparel  and  splendid  jewels 
threw  an  air  of  insignificance  upon  all  the  fair  visitants  of  the 
theatre  ; the  stage  was  utterly  neglected — all  seemed  to  consider 
the  contemplation  of  so  much  loveliness  far  more  deserving  atten- 
tion. Upon  this  occasion  an  unmistakable  sign  from  Mdme. 
Danglars  intimated  her  desire  to  see  Albert  in  her  box  directly  the 
curtain  fell  on  the  second  act,  and  neither  the  politeness  nor  good 
taste  of  Morcerf  would  permit  his  neglecting  an  invitation  so  un- 
equivocally given.  At  the  close  of  the  act  he  therefore  proceeded 
to  the  baroness’s  box.  Having  bowed  to  the  two  ladies,  he  ex- 
tended his  hand  to  Debray.  By  the  baroness  he  was  most  gra- 
ciously welcomed,  while  Eugenie  received  him  with  her  accustomed 
coldness. 

“ My  dear  fellow  ! ” said  Debray,  “ you  have  just  come  in  the 
very  nick  of  time  to  help  a fellow-creature  regularly  beaten  and  at 
a standstill.  There  is  madame  overwhelming  me  with  questions 
respecting  the  count ; she  insists  upon  it  that  I can  tell  her  his 
birth,  education,  and  parentage,  where  he  came  from,  and  whither 
he  is  going.  Being  no  conjuror,  I was  whojly  unable  to  do  this ; 


2$2 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


so,  by  way  of  getting  out  of  the  scrape,  I said,  • Ask  Morcerf ; ho 
has  got  the  whole  history  of  his  beloved  Monte-Cristo  at  his 
fingers’  ends  whereupon  the  baroness  made  you  a sign  to  come 
hither,  and  now  I leave  the  solution  of  her  questions  in  your 
hands  ; for  my  own  part,  I care  nothing  about  the  count  or  his 
mysterious  doings.” 

" I am  very  sure  no  nabob  of  our  time  would  have  sent  me  a 
pair  of  horses  worth  32,000  francs,  wearing  on  their  heads  four 
diamonds  at  5,000  francs  each.” 

“ He  seems  to  have  a mania  for  diamonds,”  said  Morcerf, 
smiling  ; “ and  I verily  believe  that,  like  Potemkin,  he  keeps  his 
pockets  filled,  for  the  sake  of  strewing  them  along  the  road,  as 
Hop  o’  my  Thumb  did  his  pebbles.” 

“ Perhaps  he  has  discovered  some  mine,”  said  Mdme.  Danglars. 
41 1 suppose  you  know  he  has  an  order  for  unlimited  credit  on  the 
baron’s  banking  establishment  ? ” 

“I  was  not  aware  of  it,”  replied  Albert,  “ but  I can  readily  be- 
lieve it.” 

‘‘And,  further,  that  he  stated  to  M.  Danglars  his  intention  of 
only  staying  a year  in  Paris,  during  which  time  he  proposed  to 
spend  six  millions.  He  must  be  the  Shah  of  Persia,  traveling 
incog." 

“ Have  you  remarked  the  extreme  beauty  of  that  young  female 
by  whom  he  is  accompanied,  M.  Lucien?  ” inquired  Eugenie. 

“Who  is  this  young  person,  M,  Morcerf?”  inquired  Eugenie ; 
“ does  anybody  know  ? ” 

“Allow  me  to  state,”  said  Albert,  “that  I can  give  you  very 
tolerable  information  on  that  subject,  as  well  as  on  most  points  reb 
ative  to  the  singular  person  of  whom  we  are  now  conversings 
the  young  female  is  a Greek.  I know  one  thing  more,  namely*, 
that  she  is  a musician,  for  one  day  that  I chanced  to  be  breakfast* 
ing  with  the  count,  I heard  the  sound  of  a guzla — it  is  impossibl® 
it  could  have  been  touched  by  any  other  finger  than  her  own.” 

“ I must  try  and  persuade  M.  Danglars  to  invite  him  to  a bailor 
dinner,  or  something  of  the  sort,  that  he  may  be  compelled  to  ask 

us  in  return.” “What!”  said  Debray,  laughing  ; “do  you 

know  this  mysterious  count  is  a bachelor  ? ” 

‘ You  have  ample  proof  to  the  contrary,  if  you  look  opposite,” 
said  the  baroness,  as  she  laughingly  pointed  to  the  beautiful 
Greek. 

“ No,  no  ! ” exclaimed  Debray  ; “that  is  not  his  wife,  he  told  us 
himself  she  was  his  slave  ; do  you  not  recollect,  Morcerf,  his  tell- 
ing us  so  at  your  breakfast  ? ” 

“ Well,  then,”  said  the  baroness,  “ if  slave  she  be,  she  has  all 
the  air  and  manner  of  a princess.” 

“ Of  the  Arabian  Nights  ?” 

“ If  you  like  ; but  tell  me,  my  good  Lucien,  what  is  it  that  con- 
stitutes a princess?  gold,  silver,  and  jewels?  and  our  Greek  beauty 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  253 

there  is  one  blaze  of  diamonds;  I doubt  if  any  queen’s  could 
equal  them.” 

“To  me  she  seems  overloaded,”  observed  Eugenie;  “she 
would  look  far  better  if  she  wore  fewer,  and  we  should  then  be 
able  to  see  her  finely-formed  throat  and  wrists.” 

“ See,  how  the  artist  peeps  out ! ” exclaimed  Mdme.  Danglars  ; 
“My  poor  Eugenie,  you  must  conceal  your  passion  for  the  fine, 
arts/’ 

“I  admire  all  that  is  beautiful  in  art  or  nature/ ’ returned  the 
young  lady. 

“ What  do  you  think  of  the  count  ? ” inquired  Debray  ; “ he  is 
not  much  amiss,  according  to  my  ideas  of  good  looks.” 

“ The  count  ? ” repeated  Eugenie,  as  though  it  had  not  occurred 
to  her  to  observe  him  sooner  ; “ the  count?  oh  ! — he  is  so  dread- 
fully pale.” 

“ 1 quite  agree  with  you,”  said  Morcerf ; “ and  it  is  in  that  very 
paleness  that  consists  the  secret  we  want  to  find  out.  The  Countess 
Guiccioli  insists  upon  it  he  is  a vampire.” 

“ Is  that  she,  mamma  ? ” asked  Eugenie  ; “ almost  opposite  to  us 
With  that  profusion  of  beautiful  light  hair  ? M 

“ Yes,  yes,  there  she  is  ! ” cried  Mdme.  Danglers  ; “ you  should 

go  and  bring  your  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  to  us.” “What  for?” 

asked  Eugenie. 

“ Strange  girl ! ” murmured  the  baroness. 

“Adieu  ! I sacrifice  myself,  remember  that,”  said  Albert,  as  he 
made  his  parting  bow.  Just  as  he  was  passing  the  count’s  box, 
the  door  opened,  and  Monte-Cristo  came  forth.  After  giving  some 
directions  to  Ali,  who  stood  in  the  lobby,  the  count  observed 
Albert,  and,  taking  his  arm,  walked  onwards  with  him.  Carefully 
dosing  the  box-door,  Ali  placed  himself  before  it,  while  a crowd 
Of  wondering  spectators  assembled  round  the  unconscious  Nubian. 

“ Upon  my  word,  you  are  at  this  moment  the  most  celebrated 
and  fashionable  person  in  Paris.” 

“Really?  and  what  has  procured  me  so  flattering  a distinc- 
tion ? ’ * 

“What?  why,  yourself,  to  be  sure!  You  give  away  horses, 
worth  thousands  ; you  save  the  lives  of  ladies  of  high  rank  and 
beauty  ; you  send  thoroughbreds  to  contest  the  prize  of  the  Jockey 
Club,  the  horses  being  rode  by  boys  not  larger  than  marmots ; 
then,  when  you  have  carried  off  the  golden  trophy  of  victory,  in- 
stead of  setting  any  value  on  it,  you  give  it  to  the  first  handsome 
woman  you  think  of ! ” 

“ And  who  has  filled  your  head  with  all  this  nonsense?  ” 

“ Why,  in  the  first  place,  I heard  it  from  Mdme.  Danglars,  who, 
by  the  by,  is  dying  to  see  you  in  her  box,  or  to  have  you  seen 
there  by  others  ; secondly,  I learned  it  from  Beauchamp’s  journal  ; 
and  thirdly,  from  my  own  imagination.  Why,  if  you  sought  con- 
cealment, chd  you  call  your  horse  Vampa  ? l’nat  was  an 


254 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


oversight,  certainly,’*  replied  the  count;  11  but  tell  me,  does  thr 
Count  de  Morcerf  never  visit  the  Opera  ? 1 have  been  looking 

for  him,  but  without  success.” 

" He  will  be  here  to-night.” “ In  what  part  of  the  house  ? ” 

— " In  the  baroness’s  box,  I believe.” “ Is  the  charming  young 

female  with  her — her  daughter?” “Yes.” " Indeed  ! then 

I congratulate  you.”  Morcerf  smiled.  " We  will  discuss  that  sub- 
ject at  length  some  future  time,  ” said  he.  " But  what  think  you 
of  the  music  ? ” 

" Your  orchestra  is  rather  too  noisy.” 

" Let  me  recommend  you,  my  dear  viscount,  to  come  and  sup 
with  me  whenever  you  wish  to  be  regaled  with  music  really  worth 
listening  to.” " I have  already  enjoyed  that  treat  when  break- 

fasting with  you,”  said  Morcerf. 

"Ah,  then,  I suppose  you  heard  Haydee’s  guzla  ; the  poor  exile 
frequently  beguiles  a weary  hour  in  playing  over  to  me  the  airs  of 
her  native  land.”  Morcerf  did  not  pursue  the  subject,  and  Monte- 
Cristo  himself  fell  into  a silent  reverie.  The  bell  rang  at  this 
moment  for  the  rising  of  the  curtain. 

The  third  act  had  now  commenced  ; and  during  its  progress  the 
Count  de  Morcerf,  made  his  appearance  in  the  box  of  Mdme. 
Danglars.  Morcerf  was  not  one  of  those  persons  whose  aspect 
would  create  either  interest  or  curiosity  in  a place  of  public  amuse- 
ment ; his  presence,  therefore,  was  wholly  unnoticed,  save  by  the 
occupants  of  the  box  in  which  he  had  just  seated  himself.  The 
quick  eye  of  Monte-Cristo,  however,  marked  his  coming  ; and  a 
slight  though  meaning  smile  passed  over  his  lips  as  he  did  so. 
Haydee,  whose  soul  seemed  centred  in  the  business  of  the  stage, 
like  all  unsophisticated  natures,  delighted  in  whatever  addressed 
itself  to  the  eye  or  ear. 

The  third  act  passed  off  as  usual,  after  which  the  curtain  again 
fell,  and  the  spectators  poured  forth  from  the  theatre  into  the 
lobbies  and  salon.  The  count  also,  quitting  his,  proceeded  at 
once  to  the  box  of  Mdme.  Danglars,  who  could  scarcely  restrain  a 
cry  of  mingled  pleasure  and  surprise.  "Welcome,  Count, ’’  ex- 
claimed she,  as  he  entered.  “ I have  been  most  anxious  to  see 
you,  that  I might  repeat  verbally  those  thanks  writing  can  so  ill 
express.” 

"Surely  so  trifling  a circumstance  cannot  deserve  a place  in 
your  remembrance.  Believe  me,  madame,  I had  entirely  forgot- 
ten it ! ” 

" But  it  is  not  so  easy  to  forget,  my  lord,  that  the  very  day  fol- 
lowing the  one  in  which  you  kindly  prevented  my  disappointment 
respecting  the  horses,  you  saved  the  life  of  my  dear  friend,  Mdme. 
de  Villefort,  which  I had  placed  in  danger  by  lending  her  the  very 
animals  your  generosity  restored  to  me.” 

" This  time,  at  least,  I cannot  accept  of  your  flattering  acknowl- 
edgments* In  the  latter  affair  you  owe  me  nothing.  Ali,  my 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


255 


Nubian  slave,  was  the  fortunate  individual  who  enjoyed  the 
privilege  of  rendering  to  your  friend  the  trifling  assistance  you  ah 
[ude  to.” 

“ Was  it  Ali,”  asked  Morcerf,  44  who  rescued  my  son  from  the 
hands  of  bandits  ? ” 

14  No,  my  lord,”  replied  Monte-Cristo,  pressing  with  friendly 
warmth  the  hand  held  out  to  him  by  the  general  ; “ in  this  in- 
stance I may  fairly  and  freely  accept  your  thanks  ; but  you  have 
already  tendered  them,  and  fully  discharged  your  debt — if,  in- 
deed, there  existed  one — and  I feel  almost  mortified  to  find  you 
still  revert  to  the  the  trifling  aid  I was  able  to  render  your  son. 

— May  l beg  of  you,  Baroness,  to  honor  me  with  an  introduction 

to  your  charming  daughter?  ” 

“Oh!  you  are  no  stranger — at  least  not  by  name,”  replied 
Mdme.  Danglars,  44  and  the  last  two  or  three  days  we  have  really 
talked  of  nothing  else  but  yourself.  Eugenie,”  continued  the 
baroness,  turning  toward  her  daughter,  “ Count  Monte-Cristo.” 
The  count  bowed,  while  Mdlle.  Danglars  returned  a slight  bow. 
44  You  have  a charming  young  person  with  you  to-night,  Count,” 
said  Eugenie.  “ Your  daughter,  I resume  ? ” 

“No,  indeed,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  astonished  at  the  coolness 
and  freedom.  “The  female  you  allude  to  is  a poor  unfortunate 
Greek  left  under  my  care.” 

44  And  what  is  her  name  ? ” 

44  Hayefee,’  replied  Monte-Cristo. 

44  A Greek?”  murmured  Morcerf. 

44  Yes,  indeed,  count,”  said  Mdme.  Danglars  ; 44  and  tell  me, 
did  you  ever  see  at  the  court  of  Ali  Tebelin,  whom  you  so  glor- 
iously and  valiantly  served,  a more  exquisite  beauty  or  richer  cos, 
tume  than  is  displayed  in  the  fair  Greek  before  us?  ” 

“Did  I hear  rightly,  my  lord,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  44  that  you 

served  at  Janina  r ” 44  I was  inspector-general  of  the  pasha’s 

troops,”  replied  Morcerf ; 44  and  I seek  not  to  conceal  that  I owe 
my  fortune,  such  as  it  is,  to  the  liberality  of  the  illustrious  Albanese 
chief.” 

“ But  look!  pray  look,”  exclaimed  Mdme.  Danglars. 

44  Where  ? ” stammered  out  Morcerf. 

44  There,  there!”  said  Monte-Cristo,  as,  wrapping  his  arm 
around  the  count,  he  leaned  with  him  over  the  front  of  the  box, 
just  as  Haydee,  whose  eyes  were  occupied  in  examining  the 
theatre  in  search  of  the  count,  perceived  his  pale  marble  features 
close  to  the  countenance  of  Morcerf,  whom  he  was  holdings 
This  sight  produced  on  the  astonished  girl  an  effect  similar  to  that 
of  the  head  of  Medusa.  She  bent  forward  as  though  to  assure 
herseif  of  the  reality  of  what  she  beheld,  then  uttering  faint  a cry, 
threw  herself  back  in  her  seat.  The  scream  that  burst  from  the 
agitated  Greek  quickly  reached  the  ear  of  the  watchful  Ali,  wha 
instantly  opened  the  box-door  to  ascertain  the  cause.  “Bless 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


256 

me  l ” exclaimed  Eugenie,  44  whav  has  happened  to  your  ward, 
count?  she  seems  taken  suddenly  ill ! 

41  Very  probably!”  answered  the  count.  “But  do  not  be 
alarmed  on  her  account!  Haydee’ s nervous  system  is  delicately 
organized,  and  she  is  peculiarly  susceptible  of  the  odors  even 
(of  flowers — nay,  there  are  some  which  cause  her  to  faint  if  brought 
into  her  presence.  However,”  continued  Monte-Cristo,  drawing 
a small  phial  from  his  pocket,  “ I have  an  infallible  remedy  for 
such  attacks.”  So  saying,  he  bowed  to  the  baroness  and  her 
daughter,  exchanged  a parting  shake  of  the  hand  with  Debray 
and  the  count,  and  quitted  for  the  box.  Upon  his  return  to 
Haydee,  he  found  her  extremely  pale  and  much  agitated.  Directly 
she  saw  him  she  seized  his  hand,  while  the  icy  coldness  of  her 
own  made  Monte-Cristo  start. 

44  With  whom  was  my  lord  conversing  a few  minutes  since?  ” 
asked  she,  in  a trembling  voice. 

“With  the  Count  of  Morcerf,”  answered  Monte-Cristo.  “ He 
tells  me  he  served  your  illustrious  father,  to  whom  he  owes  his 
fortune  ! 

44  Base,  cowardly  traitor  that  he  is!  ” exclaimed  Haydee,  her 
eyes  flashing  with  rage  ; “ he  it  was  who  sold  my  beloved  parent 
to  the  Turks,  and  the  fortune  he  boasts  of  was  the  price  of  his 
treachery  ! Knowest  thou  not  that,  my  dear  lord  ? ” 

41  Something  of  this  I heard  in  Epirus,”  said  Monte-Cristo; 
44  but  the  particulars  are  still  unknown  to  ms.  You  shall  relate 
them  to  me,  my  child.  They  are,  no  doubt,  both  curious  and  in- 
teresting.” 

44  Yes,  yes  ! but  let  us  go  hence,  I beseech  you.  I feel  as 
though  it  would  kill  me  to  remain  longer  near  that  dreadful 
man.”  So  saying,  Haydee  arose,  and  wrapping  herself  in  her 
white  cashmere  opera-cloak  embroidered  with  pearls  and  coral, 
she  hastily  quitted  the  box  at  the  moment  when  the  curtain  was 
rising  upon  the  fourth  act. 

44  Do  you  observe,”  said  the  Countess  to  Albert,  who  had  re- 
turned to  her  side,  44  that  man  does  nothing  like  other  people  ; he 
listens  most  devoutly  to  the  third  act  of  Robert \ and  when  the 
fo»nh  begins,  makes  a precipitate  retreat.” 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE  RISE  AND  FALL  OF  THE  STOCKS. 

Some  days  after  this  meeting,  Albert  visited  Monte-Cristo  at 
his  house,  which  had  already  assumed  the  palace-like  appearance 
which  the  count’s  princely  fortune  enabled  him  to  give  event® 
his  most  temporary  residences.  He  came  to  renew  the  thanks  of 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


2$; 


Itfdme.  Danglars  which  had  been  already  conveyed  to  the  count 
through  the  medium  of  a letter.  Albert  was  accompanied  by 
Lucien  Debray,  who,  joining  in  his  friend’s  conversation,  added 
some  passing  compliments,  the  source  of  which  the  count's  talent 
easily  enabled  him  to  guess.  He  was  convinced  that  Lucien’s 
sdsit  to  him  was  to  be  attributed  to  a double  feeling  of  curiosity, 
the  larger  half  of  which  sentiment  emanated  from  the  Rue  de  la 
Chaussee  d’Antin.  In  short,  Mdme.  Danglars,  not  being  able 
personally  to  examine  in  detail  the  domestic  economy  and  house- 
hold arrangements  of  a man  who  gave  away  horses  worth  30,- 
000  francs,  and  who  went  to  the  opera  with  a Greek  slave  wear- 
ing diamonds  to  the  amount  of  a million  of  money,  had  deputed 
those  eyes,  by  which  she  was  accustomed  to  see,  to  give  her  a 
faithful  account  of  the  mode  of  life  of  this  incomprehensible  in- 
dividual. But  the  count  did  not  appear  to  suspect  there  could 
be  the  slightest  connection  between  Lucien’s  visit  and  the 
baronne's  curiosity. 

"You  are  in  constant  communication,  then,  with  the  Baron 
Danglars  ? ” inquired  the  count  of  Albert  de  Morcerf. 

" Yes,  count,  you  know  what  I told  you  ? ” 

“All  remains  the  same,  then,  in  that  quarter ?** "It  is 

more  than  ever  a settled  thing,”  said  Lucien  : and,  considering 
this  remark  was  all  that  he  was  at  that  time  called  upon  to  make, 
he  adjusted  the  glass  to  his  eye,  and  biting  the  top  of  his  gold- 
headed  cane,  began  to  make  the  tour  of  the  apartment,  examining 
the  arms  and  the  pictures. 

" Ah  ! ” said  Monte-Cristo,  " I did  not  expect  the  affair  would 
have  been  so  promptly  concluded.” 

"Oh,  things  take  their  course  without  our  assistance.  My 
father  and  Danglars  served  together  in  Spain,  my  father  in  the 
army  and  Danglars  in  the  commissariat  department.  It  was 
there  that  my  father,  ruined  by  the  revolution,  and  M.  Danglars, 
who  never  had  possessed  any  patrimony,  both  laid  the  foundations 

of  their  different  fortunes.” " Mdlle.  Danglars  is  too  rich  for 

me,”  replied  Morcerf,  " and  that  frightens  me.” 

" Bah  ! ” exclaimed  Monte-Cristo,  "everything  does  not  depend 
on  wealth,  and  it  is  a fine  thing  to  have  a good  name,  and  to  occupy 
a high  station  in  society.  Your  name  is  celebrated,  your  position 
magnificent ; and  then  the  Count  of  Morcerf  is  a soldier,  and  it  is 
pleasing  to  see  the  integrity  of  a Bayard  united  to  the  poverty  of 
a Duguesclin  : disinterestedness  is  the  brightest  ray  in  which  a 
noble  sword  can  shine.  As  for  me,  I consider  the  union  a most 
suitable  one;  she  will  enrich  you,  and  you  will  ennoble  her.” 
Albert  shook  his  head,  aud  looked  thoughtful.  " There  is  still 
something  else,”  said  he. 

" My  mother’s  is  the  dissenting  voice  ; she  has  a clear  and 
penetrating  judgment,  and  does  not  smile  on  the  proposed  union* 

*7 


258 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


I cannot  account  for  it,  but  she  seems  to  entertain  some  prejudice 
against  the  Danglars.” 

“ Then  do  not  marry  her,”  said  the  count. 

«•  Well,  I shall  see.  I will  try  and  think  over  what  is  the  best 
thing  to  be  done  ; you  will  give  me  your  advice,  will  you  not  ? 
and  if  possible  extricate  me  from  my  unpleasant  position?  I 
think,  rather  than  give  pain  to' my  excellent  mother,  I would  run 
the  risk  of  offending  the  count,”  Monte-Cristo  turned  away  ; he 
seemed  moved  by  this  last  remark.  “ Ah  ! ” said  he  to  Debray, 
who  had  thrown  himself  into  an  easy-chair  at  the  farthest  ex- 
tremity  of  the  salon,  and  who  held  a pencil  in  his  right  hand  and 
an  account  book  in  his  left,  “ what  are  you  doing  there?  making 
a sketch  ? ’ * 

“ No,  no ! I am  doing  something  of  a very  opposite  nature  to 
painting.  I am  calculating — by  the  way,  Morcerf,  this  indirectly 
concerns  you — I am  calculating  what  the  house  of  Danglars 
must  have  gained  by  the  last  rise  in  Haiti  stock  ; from  206  they 
have  risen  to  409  in  three  days,  and  the  prudent  banker  had  pur- 
chased at  206,  therefore  he  must  have  made  300,000  francs.” 
“That  is  not  his  best  stroke  of  policy,”  said  Morcerf;  “did 
he  not  gain  a million  from  the  Spaniards  this  last  year?  ” 

“My  dear  fellow,”  said  Lucien,  “ M.  Danglars  sold  yesterday 
at  405,  and  pockets  300,000  francs.  Had  he  but  waited  till  to- 
day, the  stocks  would  have  fallen  to  205,  and  instead  of  gaining 
300,000  francs,  he  would  have  lost  20  or  25,000.” 

“ And  what  has  caused  the  sudden  fall  from  409  to  206  ? ” asked 
Monte-Cristo.  “ I am  profoundly  ignorant  of  all  these  stock-job- 
bing intrigues.” " Because,”  said  Albert,  laughing,  one  piece 

of  news  follows  another,  and  there  is  often  great  dissimilarity  be- 
tween them.” 

“ Ah,”  said  the  count,  “ I see  that  M.  Danglars  is  accustomed 
to  play  at  gaining  or  losing  300,000  francs  in  a day  ; he  must  be 

enormously  rich?” “It  is  not  he  who  plays,”  exclaimed 

Lucien,  “ it  is  Mdme.  Danglars  : she  is  indeed  daring,” 

“ But  you  who  are  a reasonable  being,  Lucien,  and  who  know 
how  little  dependence  is  to  be  placed  on  the  news,  since  you  are 
at  the  fountain-head,  surely  you  ought  to  prevent  it,”  said  Mor- 
cerf,  with  a smile.  Your  position  as  secretary  to  the  ministry  ren- 
ders your  authority  great  on  the  subject  of  political  news  ; you 
never  open  your  mouth  but  the  stockbrokers  immediately  steno- 
graph your  words.  Cause  her  to  lose  2 or  300,000  francs  in  a 
short  space  of  time,  and  that  would  teach  her  prudence.” 

Lucien  half  smiled.  Monte-Cristo,  although  apparently  indif« 
ferent,  had  not  lost  one  word  of  this  conversation,  and  his  pene- 
trating eye  had  even  read  a hidden  secret  in  the  embarrassed 
manner  of  the  secretary.  This  embarrassment  had  completely 
escaped  Albert,  but  it  caused  Lucien  to  shorten  his  visit ; he  was 
evidently  ill  at  ease.  The  count,  in  taking  leave  of  him,  said 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


2$£ 


something  in  a low  voice,  to  which  he  answered,  44  Willingly, 
Count ; I accept  your  proposal.”  The  count  returned  to  young 
Morcerf. 

44  Do  you  not  think,  on  reflection,”  said  he  to  him,  “that  you 
have  done  wrong  in  thus  speaking  of  your  mother-in-law  in  the 

presence  of  M.  Debray  ? ” “ Count,”  said  Morcerf,  “ I beg  of 

you  not  to  apply  that  title  so  prematurely.” 

“ Now,  speaking  without  any  exaggeration,  is  your  mother  really 

so  very  much  averse  to  this  marriage?” “So  much  so  that 

the  baronne  very  rarely  comes  to  the  house,  and  my  mother  has 
not,  I think,  visited  Mdme.  Danglars  twice  in  her  whole  life.” 

“ Then,”  said  the  count,  “ I am  emboldened  to  speak  openly  to 
you.  I have  thought  of  inviting  the  Danglars,  and  Villeforts  to  my 
country-house  at  Auteuil.  If  I were  to  invite  you  and  the  Count 
and  Countess  of  Morcerf  to  this  dinner,  it  would  give  it  the  air  of 
a matrimonial  rendezvous,  or  at  least  Mdme  de  Morcerf  would 
look  upon  the  affair  in  that  light,  especially  if  Baron  Danglars  did 
me  the  honor  to  bring  his  daughter.  In  that  case  your  mother 
would  hold  me  in  aversion,  and  I do  not  at  all  wish  that  ; on  the 
contrary,  I desire  to  occupy  a prominent  place  in  her  esteem.” 

“ Indeed,  count,”  said  Morcerf,  41  I will  immediately  call  on  M. 
Danglars,  and  tell  him  that  my  mother  and  myself  leave  Paris  to- 
morrow. I have  not  seen  you,  consequently  I know  nothing  of 
your  dinner.*’ 

“ How  foolish  you  are  ! Have  you  forgotten  that  M.  Debray 
has  just  seen  you  at  my  house  ? ” 

44  Ah,  true  ! ” 

44  On  the  contrary,  I have  seen  you,  and  invited  you  without  any 
ceremony,  when  you  instantly  answered  that  it  would  be  impossi- 
ble for  you  to  be  amongst  the  number  of  my  guests,  as  you  were 

going  to  Treport.” 44  Well,  then,  that  is  settled  ; but  you  will 

come  and  call  on  my  mother  before  to-morrow  ? ” 

•4  Before  to-morrow  ? — that  will  be  a difficult  matter  to  arrange  ; 
besides,  I shall  just  be  in  the  way  of  all  the  preparations  for  de- 
parture.” 

“ You  were  only  a charming  man  before,  but,  if  you  accede  to 
my  proposal,  you  will  be  adorable.” 

44  What  must  I do  to  attain  such  a height  ? ’’ 44  You  are  to- 

day free  as  air — come  and  dine  with  me  ; we  shall  be  a small 
party — only  yourself,  my  mother  and  I.  You  have  scarcely  seen 
my  mother,  you  shall  have  an  opportunity  of  observing  her  more 
closely.  .She  is  a remarkable  woman,  and  I only  regret  that  there 
does  not  exist  another  who  resembles  her  about  twenty  years 
younger ; in  that  case,  I assure  you,  there  would  very  soon  be  a 
countess  and  viscountess  de  Morcerf.  As  to  my  father,  you  will 
not  see  hin*  ; he  is  officially  engaged,  and  dines  with  M.  le  Grand 
Referendaire.  We  will  talk  over  our  travels  ; and  you,  who  have 
*een  the  whole  world,  will  relate  your  adventures — you  shall  tell 


26o 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


us  the  history  of  the  beautiful  Greek  who  was  with  you  thi  oth#f 
night  at  the  Opera,  and  whom  you  call  your  slave,  and  yet  treat 
like  a princess.  We  will  talk  Italian  and  Spanish.  Come,  accept 
my  invitation,  and  my  mother  will  thank  you.” 

" A thousand  thanks,”  said  the  count,  “ your  invitation  is  most 
gracious,  and  I regret  exceedingly  that  it  is  not  in  my  power  to  ac- 
cept it.  I am  not  so  much  at  liberty  as  you  suppose  ; on  the  con- 
trary, I have  a most  important  engagement.” 

««  Humph  ! ” said  Morcerf,  “ this  is  the  second  time  you  have 
refused  to  dine  with  my  mother  ; it  is  evident  you  wish  to  avoid 
her.”  Monte-Cristo  started.  “ Oh,  you  do  not  mean  that,”  said 
he  ; “ besides,  here  comes  the  confirmation  of  my  assertion.” 

**  Baptistin,  what  did  I tell  you  this  morning  when  I called  you  ?” 

To  close  the  door  against  visitors  as  soon  as  the  clock  struck 

five,”  replied  the  valet.  “Then  to  admit  no  one  except  Major 
Bartolomeo  Cavalcanti  and  his  son.” 

“You  hear;  Major  Bartolomeo  Cavalcanti ; a man  who  ranks 
amongst  the  most  ancient  nobility  of  Italy.  Then  there  is  his  son, 
a charming  young  man,  about  your  own  age,  viscount,  bearing 
the  same  title  as  yourself,  and  who  is  making  his  entree  into  Par* 
isian  society,  aided  by  his  father’s  millions.  The  major  will  bring 
his  son  with  him  this  evening  ; he  confides  him  to  my  care.  He 
is  a perfect  nobleman,  very  polite,  modest,  and  agreeable,  such  as 
may  be  found  constantly  in  Italy,  descendants  of  very  ancient 
families.  I have  met  him  several  times,  and  he  has  now  commun- 
icated to  me  the  fact  of  his  arrival.  The  acquaintances  one  makes 
in  traveling  have  a claim  : they  everywhere  expect  to  receive  the 
same  attention  which  you  once  paid  them  by  chance.  Our  good 
Major  Cavalcanti  comes  to  take  a second  view  of  Paris,  which  he 
only  saw  in  passing  through  in  the  time  of  the  Empire,  when  he 
was  on  his  way  to  Moscow.  I shall  give  him  a good  dinner  : he 
will  confide  his  son  to  my  care  ; I will  promise  to  watch  over  him  ; 
let  him  follow  whatever  path  his  folly  may  lead  him,  and  then  I 
shall  have  done  my  part.” 

“ Certainly  ; I see  you  are  a precious  Mentor/'  said  Albert* 
u Good-bye,  we  shall  return  on  Sunday/’ 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

THE  TWO  CAVALCANTIS. 

Both  the  count  and  Baptistin  had  told  the  truth  when  they  an- 
nounced to  Morcerf  the  proposed  visit  of  the  major,  which  had 
served  Monte-Cristo  as  a pretext  for  declining  the  invitation  which 
he  had  received  from  Albert.  Seven  o’clock  had  just  struck,  and 
Bertuccio,  according  to  the  command  which  had  been  given  him. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


261 


had  two  hours  before  left  for  Auteuil,  wheii  a hack  stopped  at  the 
door,  and  after  depositing  its  occupant,  immediately  hurried  away, 
as  if  ashamed  of  its  employment.  The  individual  who  alighted 
from  the  vehicle  was  about  fifty-two  years  of  age,  dressed  in  pic- 
turesque costume  the  person  who  rang  at  the  gate,  and  demanded 
if  it  was  not  where  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  inhabited,  and  who 
being  answered  by  the  porter  in  the  affirmative,  entered,  closed 
the  gate  after  him,  and  began  to  ascend  the  steps  of  the  house. 

The  small  and  angular  head  of  the  individual  in  question,  his 
white  hair  and  thick  grey  moustache,  caused  him  to  be  easily  rec- 
ognized by  Baptistin,  who  had  received  an  exact  description,  and 
was  awaiting  him  in  the  hall.  Therefore,  scarcely  had  the 
stranger  time  to  pronounce  his  name  before  the  count  was  apprised 
of  his  arrival.  He  was  ushered  into  a simple  and  elegant  room, 
and  the  count  rose  to  meet  him  with  a smiling  air. 

“Ah,  my  dear  sir,  you  are  most  welcome;  I was  told  that  I 
should  see  you  to-day  at  seven  o'clock.” 

“ Ah,  so  much  the  better ; I feared  this  little  precaution  might 
have  been  forgotten,  of  informing  you  beforehand  of  my  com- 
ing.” 

“ I will  prove  it  to  you  beyond  a doubt." 

“ Oh,  no,  never  mind  that,”  said  the  Italian  ; “it  is  not  worth 
the  trouble.” 

“Let  me  see,”  said  the  count ; “ are  you  not  the  Marquis  Bar- 
tolomeo Cavalcanti,  ex-major  in  the  Austrian  service  ? ” 

“ Was  I a major?”  timidly  asked  the  old  soldier. “Yes,” 

said  Monte-Cristo,  “ you  were  a major  ; that  is  the  title  the  French 
give  to  the  post  which  you  filled  in  Italy.  Your  visit  here  to-day 
is  not  of  your  own  suggestion,  is  it?”  said  Monte-Cristo.  “ You 
were  sent  by  the  excellent  Abbe  Busoni  ? ” 

“ Exactly  so,”  said  the  delighted  major,  *»  whose  letter  I have.” 
“ Give  it  me  then  ; ” and  Monte-Cristo  took  the  letter,  which  he 
opened  and  read.  The  major  looked  at  the  count  with  large  star- 
ing eyes,  and  then  tobk  a survey  of  the  apartment,  but  his  gaze 
almost  immediately  reverted  to  the  proprietor.  “ Yes,  yes,  I see. 
4 Major  Cavalcanti,  a worthy  patrician  of  Lucca,  a descendant  of 
the  Cavalcanti,  of  Florence,’  * continued  Monte-Cristo,  reading 
aloud,  “ 1 possessing  an  income  of  half  a million.’  ” Monte-Cristo 
raised  his  eyes  from  the  paper,  and  bowed.  “ Half  a million,” 
said  he,  “ magnificent ! it  must  be  so,  for  the  abbe  knows  correctly 
the  amount  of  all  the  largest  fortunes  in  Europe.” 

“ Be  it  half  a million,  then  ; but  on  my  word  of  honor,  I had  no 

idea  that  it  was  so  much.” “ Because  you  are  robbed  by  your 

steward.  You  must  make  some  reformation  in  that  quarter.” 

“ You  have  opened  my  eyes,”  said  the  Italian,  gravely  ; “ 1 will 
show  the  gentleman  the  door.” 

Monte-Cristo  resumed  the  perusal  of  the  letter: — “'And  who 
only  needs  one  thing  more  to  make  him  happy  ; to  recover  a lost 


262 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


and  adored  son,  stolen  away  in  his  infancy,  either  by  an  enemy  of 
his  noble  family  or  by  the  gipsies.’  ” 

44  At  the  age  of  five  ! ” said  the  major  with  a deep  sigh,  and  rais- 
ing his  eyes  to  heaven.  * 

44 Unhappy  father!  ” said  Monte-Cristo,  continuing: 

44  4 I have  given  him  renewed  life  and  hope,  in  the  assurance 
that  you  have  the  power  of  restoring  the  son  whom  he  has  vainly 
sought  for  fifteen  years.’  ” The  major  looked  at  the  count  with  an 
indescribable  expression  of  anxiety.  44  I have  the  power  of  so  do- 
ing,”  said  Monte-Cristo. 

The  major  recovered  his  self-possession.  44  Ah  ! ah ! ” said  he, 

“ the  letter  was  true  then  to  the  end  ? ” 

44  Ah ! true  ! ” said  Monte-Cristo,  44  there  is  a postscript.*’ 

4 44  In  order  to  save  Major  Cavalcanti  the  trouble  of  drawing  on 
his  banker,  I send  him  a draft  for  2,000  francs  to  defray  his  travel- 
ing expenses,  and  credit  on  you  for  the  further  sum  of  48,000, 
which  you  still  owe  me.”  * The  major  awaited  the  conclusion  of 
the  postscript,  apparently  with  great  anxiety. 

44  Then  the  postscript  is  as  favorably  received  by  you  as  the  rest 
of  the  letter?  ” 

44  Certainly  ; the  Abbe  Busoni  and  myself  have  a small  account 
open  between  us.  I do  not  remember  if  it  is  exactly  48,000  francs, 
which  I am  still  owing  him  ; but  I dare  say  we  shall  not  dispute 
the  difference.  You  attached  great  importance,  then,  to  this  post- 
script, my  dear  M.  Cavalcanti?” 

44 1 must  explain  to  you,”  said  the  major,  44  that,  fully  confiding 
in  the  signature  of  Father  Busoni,  I had  not  provided  myself  with 
any  other  funds  ; so  that  if  this  resource  had  failed  me,  I should 
have  found  myself  very  unpleasantly  situated.” 

44  Is  it  possible  that  a man  of  your  stamp  should  be  embarrassed 
anywhere?”  said  Monte-Cristo. 

44  Why,  really  I know  no  one,”  said  the  major. 

44  But  then  you  yourself  are  known  to  others  ? ” 

“ Yes,  I am  known;  but  you  will  remit  to  me  these  48,000 
francs?  ” 

44  Certainly,  at  your  first  request.”  The  major’s  eyes  dilated 
with  pleasing  astonishment.  44  But  sit  down,”  said  Monte-Cristo. 
The  major  drew  an  arm-chair  toward  him,  and  proceeded  to  seat 
himself. 

44  Now,”  said  the  count,  44  what  will  you  take — a glass  of  port, 
sherry,  or  Alicant  ? ” 

44  Alicant,  if  you  please  ; it  is  my  favorite  wine.” 

Monte-Cristo  rang  ; Baptistin  appeared.  The  count  advanced 
to  meet  him.  44  Well  ? ” said  he,  in  a low  voice. 

44  The  young  man  is  here,”  said  the  valet,  in  the  same  tone.  44  In 
the  blue  drawing-room,  according  to  your  excellency’s  orders.” 

44  That’s  right  ; now  bring  Alicant  and  wine  wafers.’* 

Baptistin  left  the  room,  and  re-entered  with  glasses,  wine,  and 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 263 

crackers.  The  count  filled  one  glass,  but  in  the  other  he  only 
poured  a few  drops  of  the  ruby-colored  liquid.  The  bottle  was 
covered  with  webs,  and  all  the  other  signs  which  indicate  the  age 
of  wine  more  truly  than  do  wrinkles  on  a man.  The  major  made 
a wise  choice  ; he  took  the  full  glass  and  a wafer. 

"So,  sir,  you  inhabited  Lucca,  did  you  ? You  were  rich,  noble, 
held  in  great  esteem — had  all  that  could  render  a man  happy?  M 
"All,”  said  the  major,  hastily  swallowing,  "positively  alLM 
" And  yet  there  was  one  thing  wanting  in  order  to  complete 
your  happiness?  your  lost  child  ! ” 

" Ay,”  said  the  major,  taking  a second  biscuit,  " that  consum- 
mation of  my  happiness  was  indeed  wanting.”  The  worthy  major 
raised  his  eyes  to  heaven  and  sighed. 

" Let  me  hear,  then,”  said  the  count,  " who  this  deeply-regret- 
ted  son  was ; for  I always  understood  you  were  a bachelor.  A 
youthful  indiscretion,  I suppose,  which  you  were  anxious  to  con- 
ceal from  the  world  at  large  ? ” 

The  major  recovered  himself,  and  resumed  his  usual  calm  man- 
ner, at  the  same  time  casting  his  eyes  down,  either  to  give  himself 
time  to  compose  his  countenance,  or  to  assist  his  imagination,  all 
the  while  giving  an  under-look  at  the  count,  the  protracted  smile 
on  whose  lips  still  announced  the  same  polite  curiosity.  " Yes,” 
said  the  major,  "I  did  wish  this  fault  to  be  hidden  from  every  eye.” 
"Not  on  your  own  account,  surely,”  replied  Monte-Cristo ; 
" for  a man  is  above  all  these  things  ? ” 

" Oh,  no,  certainly  not  on  my  own  account/*  said  the  major, 
with  a smile  and  a shake  of  the  head. 

" But  for  the  sake  of  the  mother?  ” said  the  count. 

" Yes,  for  the  mother’s  sake — his  poor  mother ! M cried  the 
major,  trying  to  moisten  his  eye  with  a tear. 

" She  belonged  to  one  of  the  first  families  in  Italy,  I think,  did 
she  not  ? ’ ’ 

" She  was  of  a noble  family  of  Fiesole.” 

" And  her  name  was  Oliva  Corsinari,  was  it  not  ? A marchion- 
ess, whom  you  married  at  last,  notwithstanding  the  opposition  of 
her  family  ? ’ ’ 

" Yes,  I did  so.” 

“ And  you  have  doubtless  brought  all  your  papers  with  you?  ’* 
said  Monte-Cristo.  " The  certificate  of  your  marriage  with  Oliva 
Corsinari,  and  the  register  of  your  child’s  birth,  that  is  of  Andrea 
Cavalcanti — your  son  ; is  not  his  name  Andrea  ? ” 

" I believe  so,”  said  the  major.  " I dare  not  positively  assert  it, 
is  he  has  been  lost  for  so  long  a time/* 

" Still,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  "you  have  all  the  documents  with 
you?” 

“ I regret  to  say  that,  not  knowing  it  was  necessary  to  come 
provided  with  these  papers,  I neglected  to  bring  them  with  me.” 
u That  is  unfortunate,”  returned  Monte-Cristo.  "They  were 


264 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


indispensable  ; Supposing  there  were  to  be  doubts  raised  as  to  the 
validity  of  your  marriage  or  the  legitimacy  of  yoiir  child?  It 
would  be  fatal  to  his  interests.’ ’ 

“ It  might  cause  him  to  fail  in  some  desirable  matrimonial  spec- 
ulation.” 

“ O peccato!" 

“You  must  know  that  in  France  they  are  very  particular  on 
these  points  ; it  is  not  sufficient,  as  in  Italy,  to  go  to  the  priest  and 
say,  * We  love  each  other,  and  want  you  to  marry  us.’  Marriage 
is  a civil  affair  in  France,  and  in  order  to  marry  in  an  orthodox 
manner  you  must  have  papers  which  undeniably  establish  your 
identity.” 

“ That  is  the  misfortune  ! I have  not  these  necessary  papers.” 
“ Fortunately,  I have  them,  though,”  said  Monte-Cristo. 

“Ah,  indeed!  ” said  the  major,  who,  seeing  the  object  of  his 

{'ourney  frustrated  by  the  absence  of  the  papers,  feared  also  that 
lis  forgetfulness  might  give  rise  to  some  difficulty  concerning  the 
cash, — “ that  is  a fortunate  circumstance  ; really  lucky,  for  it 
never  occurred  to  me  to  bring  them.” 

“ I do  not  at  all  wonder  at  it — one  cannot  think  of  everything  ; 
but,  happily,  the  Abbe  Busoni  thought  for  you.” 

“ He  is  an  admirable  man,”  said  the  major  ; “and  sent  them  to 
you?  ” 

“ Here  they  are.” 

The  major  clasped  his  hands  in  token  of  admiration.  “You 
married  Oliva  Corsinari  in  the  church  of  San  Paolo  del  Monte- 
Cattini ; here  is  the  priest’s  certificate.” 

“Yes,  indeed,  there  it  is  truly,”  said  the  Italian,  looking  ©n 
with  astonishment. 

“ And  here  is  Andrea  Cavalcanti’s  baptismal  register,  given  by 
the  cure  of  Saravezza.  Take  *hese  documents,  then  ; they  do  not 
concern  me.  You  will  give  them  to  your  son,  who  will,  of  course, 
take  great  care  of  them.” 

“ I should  think  so,  indeed!  ” 

“ I am  very  glad  you  understand  the  value  of  these  papers.” 

“ I regard  them  as  invaluable.” 

“Now,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  “as  to  the  mother  of  the  young 
man,  has  she  not  been  dead  these  ten  years  ? ” 

“ I am  still  mourning  her  loss  ! ” exclaimed  the  major,  drawing 
from  his  pocket  a checked  handerchief,  and  alternately  wiping  first 
the  right  and  then  the  left  eye. 

“What  would  you?”  said  Monte-Cristo;  “we  are  all  mortal. 
Now,  you 'understand,  my  dear  M.  Cavalcanti,  that  it  is  useless 
for  you  to  tell  people  in  France  that  you  have  been  separated  from 
your  son  for  fifteen  years.  Stories  of  gipsies,  who  steal  children, 
are  not  at  all  in  vogue  in  this  part,  and  would  not  be  believed. 
You  sent  him  for  his  education  to  a college  in  the  provinces,  and 
now  you  wish  him  to  complete  his  education  in  the  Parisian  world. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


26S 


That  induced  you  to  leave  Via  Reggio,  where  you  have  lived 
since  the  death  of  your  wife.  If  they  should  hear  of  the  separa- 
tion — — 

“Ah,  yes;  what  could  I say?" 

“That  an  unfaithful  tutor,  bought  over  by  the  enemies  of  your 
family ” 

“ By  the  Corsinari?  ” 

“ Precisely.  Had  stolen  away  this  child,  in  order  that  your 
name  might  become  extinct." 

“ That  will  do  well,  since  he  is  an  only  son." 

•«  Well,  now  that  all  is  arranged,  do  not  let  these  newly -awak- 
ened remembrances  be  forgotten.  You  have,  douotless,  already 
guessed  th&t  I was  preparing  a surprise  for  you  ? " “An  agree- 

able one  ? " asked  the  Italian. 

“ Ah,  I see  the  eye  of  a father  is  no  more  to  be  deceived  than 
his  heart." 

“Hum!"  said  the  major. 

“ Some  one  has  told  you  the  secret ; or,  perhaps,  you  guessed 
that  he  was  here." 

“ That  who  was  here?  " 

“ Your  child — your  son — your  Andrea  ! " “ I did  guess  it," 

replied  the  major,  with  the  greatest  coolness  possible.  “ Then  he 
is  here  ? " 

“ He  is,"  said  Monte-Cristo  ; “ when  the  valet  came  in  just 
now,  he  told  me  of  his  arrival.  I understand  all  your  emotion  ; 
you  must  have  time  to  recover  yourself.  I will,  in  the  meantime, 
go  and  prepare  the  young  man  for  this  much-desired  interview,  for 
I presume  that  he  is  not  less  impatient  for  it  than  yourself." 

“ I should  quite  imagine  that  to  be  the  case,”  said  Cavalcanti. 

“ Your  interview  will  be  private.  But  do  not  be  uneasy  ; even 
if  the  powerful  voice  of  nature  should  be  silent,  you  cannot  well 
mistake  him  ; he  will  enter  by  this  door.  He  is  a fine  young  man, 
of  fair  complexion — a little  too  fair,  perhaps — pleasing  manners  ; 
but  you  will  see  and  judge  for  yourself." 

“By  the  way,’’  said  the  major,  “you  know  I have  only  the 
2,000  francs  which  Abbe  Busoni  sent  me  ; this  sum  I have  ex- 
pended upon  traveling  expenses,  and " 

“And  you  want  money  ; that  is  a matter  of  course,  my  dear 
M.  Cavalcanti.  Well,  here  are  8,000  francs  on  account." 

The  major’s  eyes  sparkled  brilliantly. 

“ It  is  40,000  francs  which  I now  owe  you,"  said  Monte-Cristo. 

“ Does  your  excellency  wish  for  a receipt  ? " said  the  major,  at 
the  same  time  slipping  the  money  into  the  inner  pocket  of  his  coat. 
“To  show  the  Abbe  Busoni." 

“ Well,  when  you  receive  the  remaining  40,000  you  can  give  me 
a receipt  in  full.  Between  gentlemen  such  excessive  precaution 
is,  I think,  quite  unnecessary." 

” Yes,  so  it  is,  between  noblemen." 


2 66 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO, , 


“ You  will  permit  me  to  make  one  remark  : I should  advise  you 
to  leave  off  wearing  that  flashy  dress.” 

44  Indeed!  ” said  the  major,  regarding  himself  with  an  air  of 
complete  satisfaction. 

44  Yes.  It  may  be  worn  at  Via  Reggio  ; but  that  costume,  how- 
ever elegant  in  itself,  has  long  been  out  of  fashion  in  Paris.” 

41  But  what  shall  I wear  ? ” 

44  What  you  find  in  your  trnnks.” 

44  In  my  trunks?  I have  but  one  portmanteau.” 

44 1 dare  say  you  have  nothing  else  with  you.  What  is  the  use 
of  boring  one’s  self  with  so  many  things  ? Besides,  an  old  soldier 
always  likes  to  march  with  as  little  baggage  as  possible.” 

44  That  is  just  the  case — precisely  so  ! ” 

44  But  you  are  a man  of  foresight  and  prudence,  therefore  you 
sent  your  luggage  on  before  you.  It  has  arrived  at  the  Princes 
Hotel,  Richelieu  Street,  where  you  are  to  take  up  your  quar- 
ters.” 

44  Then,  in  these  trunks ” 

44 1 presume  you  have  given  orders  to  your  valet-de-chambre 
to  put  in  all  you  are  likely  to  need, — your  plain  clothes  and  your 
uniform.  On  grand  occasions  you  must  wear  your  uniform  ; that 
will  look  very  well.  Do  not  forget  your  crosses.  They  still  laugh 
at  them  in  France,  and  yet  always  wear  them,  for  all  that.” 

44  Very  well ! very  well!  ” said  the  major,  who  was  in  ecstasy  at 
the  attention  paid  him  by  the  count. 

44  Now,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  44  that  you  have  fortified  yourself 
against  all  painful  excitement,  prepare  yourself,  my  dear  M.  Cav- 
alcanti, to  meet  your  lost  Andrea.”  Saying  which  Monte-Cristo 
bowed,  and  disappeared  behind  the  tapestry,  leaving  the  major 
fascinated  beyond  expression  with  the  delightful  reception.  Monte- 
Cristo  entered  the  blue  drawing-room,  and  found  there  a young 
man,  of  graceful  demeanor  and  elegant  appearance,  who  had  ar- 
rived about  half  an  hour  previously.  He  was  certainly  the  tall 
young  man  with  light  hair,  red  beard,  black  eyes,  and  brilliant 
complexion,  whom  his  master  had  so  particularly  described  to 
him.  When  the  count  entered  the  room  the  young  man  was  care- 
lessly stretched  on  a sofa,  tapping  his  boot  with  the  gold-headed 
cans  which  he  held  in  his  hand.  On  perceiving  the  count  he  rose 
quickly.  44 The  Count  of  Monte-Cristo,  I believe?  ” said  he. 

44  Yes,  sir,  and  I think  I have  the  honor  of  addressing  M.  le 
Comte  Andrea  Cavalcanti ! ” 

44  Count  Andrea  Cavalcanti,”  repeated  the  young  man,  accom* 
panying  his  words  with  a bow. 

44  You  are  charged  with  a letter  of  introduction  addressed  to 
me,  are  you  not?  ” said  the  count. 

44 1 did  not  mention  that,  because  the  signature  seemed  to  me  so 
5trange.” 

44  The  letter  signed  4 Sinbad  the  Sailor/  is  it  not  ? M 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  2 67 


“ Exactly  so.  Now,  as  I have  never  known  any  Sinbad,  with 
the  exception  of  the  one  celebrated  in  the  1 Arabian  Nights’ ” 

“ Well?  it  is  one  of  his  descendants,  a great  friend  of  mine  ; he 
is  a very  rich  Englishman,  eccentric  almost  to  insanity  ; and  his 
real  name  is  Lord  Wilmore.” 

“ Ah  1 indeed!  then  that  explains  everything,”  said  Andrea, 
“that  is  extraordinary.  He  is,  then,  the  same  Englishman  whom 
I met — at — yes,  very  well ! I am  at  your  lordship’s  service.” 

“ If  what  you  say  be  true,”  replied  the  count,  smiling,  “per- 
haps you  will  be  kind  enough  to  give  me  some  account  of  yourself 

and  your  family  ? ” “ Certainly,  I will  do  so,”  said  the  young 

man,  with  a quickness  which  gave  proof  of  his  ready  invention. 
“ I am  (as  you  have  said)  Count  Andrea  Cavalcanti,  son  of  JMajor 
Bartolomeo  Cavalcanti,  a descendant  of  the  Cavalcanti  whose 
names  are  inscribed  in  the  Golden  Book  at  Florence.  Our  family, 
although  still  rich  (for  my  father’s  income  amounts  to  half  a 
million),  has  experienced  many  misfortunes,  and  I myself  was,  at 
the  age  of  five  years,  taken  away  by  the  treachery  of  my  tutor, 
so  that  for  fifteen  years  I have  not  seen  the  author  of  my  exist- 
ence. Since  I have  arrived  at  years  of  discretion  and  become 
my  own  master,  I have  been  constantly  seeking  him,  but  all  in 
vain.  At  length  I received  this  letter  from  your  friend,  which 
states  that  my  father  is  in  Paris,  and  authorizes  me  to  apply  myself 
to  you  for  information  respecting  him.” 

“ Really,  all  you  have  related  to  me  is  exceedingly  interesting,” 
said  Monte-Cristo,  observing  the  young  man  with  gloomy  satis- 
faction ; “ and  you  have  done  well  to  conform  in  everything  to  the 
wishes  of  my  friend  Sinbad  ; for  your  father  is  indeed  here,  and 
is  seeking  you.” 

The  count,  from  the  moment  of  his  first  entering  the  drawing- 
room, had  not  once  lost  sight  of  the  expression  of  the  young  man’s 
countenance  ; he  had  admired  the  assurance  of  his  look  and 
the  firmness  of  his  voice  ; but  at  these  words,  so  natural  in  them- 
selves, “ Your  father  is  indeed  here,  and  is  seeking  you,”  young 
Andrea  started,  and  exclaimed,  “My  father!  is  my  father 
here  ? ” 

“Most  undoubtedly,”  replied  Monte-Cristo;  “your  father, 
Major  Bartolomeo  Cavalcanti."  The  expression  of  terror  which, 
for  the  moment,  had  overspread  the  features  of  the  young  man, 
had  now  disappeared.  “Ah!  yes,  that  is  the  name,  certainly. 
Major  Bartolomeo  Cavalcanti.  And  you  really  mean  to  say,  that 
my  dear  father  is  here  ? ” 

“ Yes  ; and  I can  even  add  that  I have  only  just  left  his  com- 
pany. The  story  which  he  related  to  me  of  his  lost  son  touched 
me  to  the  quick  ; indeed,  his  griefs,  hopes,  and  fears,  on  that  sub- 
ject might  furnish  material  for  a most  pathetic  poem.  At  length, 
he  one  day  received  a letter,  stating  that  the  parties  who  had  de- 
prived him  of  his  son,  now  offered  to  restore  him,  or  at  least  to 


268 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


give  notice  where  he  might  be  found,  on  condition  of  receiving 
a large  sum  of  money,  by  way  of  ransom.  Your  father  did  not 
hesitate  an  instant,  and  the  sum  was  sent  to  the  frontier  of  Pied- 
mont, with  a passport  signed  for  Italy.  You  were  in  the  south 
of  France,  I think  ? M 

4 4 Yes,”  replied  Andrea,  with  an  embarrassed  air,  44 1 was  in  the 
south  of  France.” 

4 4 Your  father  ought  to  have  met  with  you  on  the  road,  for  he  took 
exactly  the  same  route,  and  that  is  how  we  have  been  able  to 
trace  your  journey  to  this  place.” 

44  But,”  said  Andrea,  44  if  my  father  had  met  me,  I doubt  if  he 
would  have  recognized  me  ; I must  be  somewhat  altered  since  he 
last  saw  me.” 

44  Oh!  the  voice  of  nature,”  said  Monte-Cristo. 

44  True,”  interrupted  the  young  man,  44 1 had  not  looked  upon 
it  in  that  point  of  view.” 

44  Now,”  replied  Monte-Cristo,  44  there  is  only  one  source  of  un- 
easiness left  in  your  father’s  mind,  which  is  this — he  is  anxious  to 
know  how  you  have  been  employed  during  your  long  absence 
from  him  ; how  treated  by  your  persecutors  ; and  if  they  have 
conducted  themselves  toward  you  with  all  the  deference  due  to 
your  rank.  Finally,  he  is  anxious  to  see  if  you  have  been  fortunate 
enough  to  escape  the  bad  moral  influence  to  which  you  have  been 
exposed,  infinitely  more  to  be  dreaded  than  any  physical  suffering  ; 
he  wishes  to  discover  if  the  fine  abilities  with  which  nature  had 
endowed  you  have  been  weakened  by  want  of  culture ; and,  in 
short,  whether  you  consider  yourself  capable  of  resuming  and 
retaining  in  the  world  the  high  position  to  which  your  rank  en- 
titles you.” 

44  Sir,”  returned  the  young  man,  with  a reassurance  of  manner, 
44  make  your  mind  easy  on  this  score.  Those  who  took  me  from 
my  father,  and  who  always  intended,  sooner  or  later,  to  sell  me 
again  to  my  original  proprietor,  as  they  have  now  done,  calcu- 
lated that,  in  order  to  make  the  most  of  their  bargain,  it  would  be 
politic  to  leave  me  in  possession  of  all  my  personal  and  hereditary 
worth,  and  even  to  increase  the  value,  if  possible.  I have, 
therefore,  received  a very  good  education,  and  have  been  treated 
by  these  kidnappers  very  much  as  the  slaves  were  treated  in  Asia 
Minor,  whose  masters  made  them  grammarians,  doctors,  and 
philosophers,  in  order  that  they  might  fetch  a higher  price  in  the 
Roman  market.” 

Monte-Cristo  smiled  with  satisfaction  ; it  appeared  as  if  he  had 
not  expected  so  much  from  M.  Andrea  Cavalcanti. 

44  Besides,”  continued  the  young  man,  44  if  there  did  appear 
some  defect  in  education,  or  offence  against  the  established  forms 
of  etiquette,  I suppose  they  would  be  excused,  in  consideration  oi 
the  misfortunes  which  accompanied  my  birth,  and  followed  me 
through  my  youth.” 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


269 


•»  Well/*  said  Monte-Cristo,  in  an  indifferent  tone,  *•  you  will  do 
as  you  please,  count,  for  you  are  the  master  of  your  own  actions, 
and  the  person  most  concerned  in  the  matter  ; but  if  I were  you,  I 
would  not  divulge  a word  of  these  adventures.  You  might  excite 
a little  curiosity,  but  it  is  not  every  one  who  likes  to  be  made  the 

centre  of  observation  and  the  subject  of  unpleasant  remark.” 

" I agree  with  your  lordship,”  said  the  young  adventurer,  turning 
pale,  and,  in  spite  of  himself,  trembling  beneath  the  scrutinizing 
look  of  his  companion,  “such  consequences  would  be  extremely 
unpleasant.” 

" Nevertheless,  you  must  not  exaggerate  the  evil,”  said  Monte- 
Cristo,  44  or  by  endeavoring  to  avoid  one  fault  you  will  fall  into  an- 
other. You  must  resolve  upon  one  simple  and  single  line  of  con- 
duct ; and  for  a man  of  your  intelligence,  this  plan  is  as  easy  as  it  is 
necessary;  you  must  form  honorable  friendships,  and  by  that 
means  counteract  the  prejudice  which  may  attach  to  the  obscurity 
of  your  former  life.”  Andrea  visibly  changed  countenance.  44 1 
would  offer  myself  as  your  surety  and  friendly  adviser,”  said 
Monte-Cristo,  44  did  I not  possess  a moral  distrust  of  my  best  friends, 
and  inclination  to  lead  others  to  doubt  them  too  ; therefore,  in  de- 
parting from  this  rule,  I should  (as  the  actors  say)  be  playing  a 
part  quite  out  of  my  line,  and  should,  therefore,  run  the  risk  of  be- 
ing hissed,  which  would  be  an  act  of  folly.” 

44  However,”  said  Andrea,  44  in  consideration  of  Lord  Wilmore, 

by  whom  I was  recommended  to  you ” 

44  Yes,  certainly,”  interrupted  Monte-Cristo;  44  but  Lord  Wil- 
more did  not  omit  to  inform  me,  my  dear  Signor  Andrea,  that  the 
season  of  your  youth  was  rather  a stormy  one.  Ah  ! ” said  the 
count,  watching  Andrea’s  countenance,  44  I do  not  demand  any 
confession  from  you  ; it  is  precisely  to  avoid  that  necessity  that 
your  father  was  sent  for  from  Lucca.  You  shall  soon  see  him  ; he 
is  a little  stiff  and  pompous  in  his  manner,  and  he  is  disfigured  by 
his  uniform  ; but  when  it  becomes  known  that  he  is  in  the  Austrian 
service,  all  that  will  be  pardoned.  In  short,  you  will  find  your 
father  a very  presentable  person,  I assure  you.” 

44  Ah,  sir,  you  have  given  me  confidence  ; it  is  so  long  since  we 
were  separated,  that  I have  not  the  least  remembrance  of  him ; 
and,  besides,  you  know  that  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  a large  for* 
tune  covers  all  defects.” 

44  He  is  a millionaire — his  income  is  500,000  francs.” 

44  Then,”  said  the  young  man,  with  anxiety,  44 1 shall  be  sure  to 
be  placed  in  an  agreeable  position.” 

44  One  of  the  most  agreeable  possible,  my  dear  sir;  he  will 
allow  you  an  income  of  50,000  livres  per  annum  during  the  whole 
time  of  your  stay  in  Paris.” 

“Then  in  that  case  I shall  always  choose  to  remain  there.” 
“Yew  «^mnot  control  circumstances,  my  dear  sir;  4 man  pro- 
poses, and  God  disposes.’  ” Andrea  sighed.  44  But,”  said  he,  41  so 


270 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


long  as  I do  remain  in  Paris,  and  nothing  forces  me  to  quit  it,  do 
you  mean  to  tell  me  that  I may  rely  on  receiving  the  sum  you  just 
now  mentioned  to  me?” 

“ Yes,  you  will  receive  it  from  your  father  personally,  but  Lord 
Wilmore  will  be  security  for  the  money.  He  has,  at  the  request 
of  your  father,  opened  an  account  of  5,000  francs  a month  at 
Danglars’,  one  of  the  safest  banks  in  Paris.” 

“ And  does  my  father  mean  to  remain  long  in  Paris  ? ” asked 
Andrea. 

“ Only  a few  days,”  replied  Monte-Cristo.  0 His  service  does 
not  allow  him  to  absent  himself  more  than  two  or  three  weeks  to- 
gether.” 

“ Ah  ! my  dear  father ! ” exclaimed  Andrea,  evidently  charmed 
with  the  idea  of  his  speedy  departure. 

“Therefore,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  feigning  to  mistake  his  mean- 
ing— “ therefore  I will  not,  for  another  instant,  retard  the  pleasure 
of  your  meeting.” 

“ Go,  then,  into  the  drawing-rocm,  my  young  friend,  where  you 
will  find  your  father  awaiting  you.” 

Andrea  made  a low  bow  to  the  count,  and  entered  the  adjoining 
room.  Monte-Cristo  watched  him  till  he  disappeared,  and  then 
touched  a spring  made  to  look  like  a picture,  which,  in  sliding 
partially  from  the  frame,  discovered  to  view  a small  interstice, 
which  was  so  cleverly  contrived  that  it  revealed  all  that  was  pass- 
ing in  the  drawing-room  now  occupied  by  Cavalcanti  and  Andrea. 
The  young  man  closed  the  door  behind  him,  and  advanced  to- 
ward the  major,  who  had  risen  when  he  heard  steps  approaching 
him.  “ Ah  ! my  dear  father  ! ” said  Andrea  in  a loud  voice,  in 
order  that  thr.  count  might  hear  him  in  the  next  room,  “ is  it  really 
you?  ” 

“ How  do  you  do,  my  dear  son?  ” said  the  major  gravely. 

“After  so  many  years  of  painful  separation,”  said  Andrea,  in 
the  same  tone,  and  glancing  toward  the  door,  “ what  a hapinessit 
is  to  meet  again  ! ” “ Indeed  it  is,  after  so  long  a separation." 

“ Then  we  are  once  more  reunited  ? ” said  Andrea. 

“ Once  more  ! ” replied  the  major. 

“ Never  more  to  be  separated  ? ” 

“ Why,  as  to  that — I think,  my  dear  son,  you  must  be  by  this 
time  so  accustomed  to  France  as  to  look  upon  it  almost  as  a sec- 
ond country.” 

“ The  fact  is,"  said  the  young  man,  “ that  I should  be  exceed- 
ingly  grieved  to  leave  it.” 

“ As  for  me,  you  must  know  I cannot  possibly  live  out  of  Lucca ; 
therefore  I shall  return  to  Italy  as  soon  as  I can.” 

“ But  before  you  leave  France,  my  dear  father,  I hope  you  will 
put  me  in  possession  of  the  documents  necessary  to  prove  my 
descent." 

M Certainly,  I am  come  expressly  on  that  account ; it  has  cost 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


271 


me  much  trouble  to  find  you,  but  I had  resolved  on  giving  them 
into  your  hands ; and  if  I had  to  recommence  my  search,  it  would 
occupy  all  the  few  remaining  years  of  my  life.” 

Andrea  seized  the  certificate  of  his  father’s  marriage  and  his 
own  baptismal  register,  and  after  having  opened  them  with  all  the 
eagerness  which  might  be  expected  under  the  circumstances,  he 
read  them  with  a facility  which  proved  that  he  was  accustomed  to 
similar  documents,  and  with  an  expression  which  plainly  denoted 
an  unusual  interest.  When  he  had  perused  the  documents,  an  in- 
definable expression  of  pleasure  lighted  up  his  countenance,  and 
looking  at  the  major  with  a most  peculiar  smile,  he  said,  in  very 
excellent  Tuscan, — “Then  there  is  no  longer  any  such  thing  in 
Italy  as  being  condemned  to  the  galleys  ? ” 

The  major  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height. 

“ Why  ? — what  do  you  mean  by  that  question  ? ” 

11 1 mean  that  if  there  were,  it  would  be  impossible  to  draw  up 
with  impunity  two  such  deeds  as  these.  In  France,  my  dear  sir, 
half  such  a piece  of  effrontery  as  that  would  cause  you  to  be 
quickly  despatched  to  Toulon  prison  for  five  years,  for  change  of 
air.” 

“ Will  you  be  good  enough  to  explain  your  meaning  ? ” said  the 
major,  endeavoring  as  much  as  possible  to  assume  an  air  of  the 
greatest  majesty. 

“ My  dear  M.  Cavalcanti/’  said  Andrea,  taking  the  major  by 
the  arm  in  a confidential  manner,  “ how  much  are  you  paid  for 
being  my  father?  ” The  major  was  about  to  speak,  when  Andrea 
continued,  in  a low  voice, — “ Nonsense  ! I am  going  to  set  you  an 
example  of  confidence  ; they  give  me  50,000  francs  a year  to  be 
your  son ; consequently,  you  can  understand  that  it  is  not  at  all 
likely  I shall  ever  deny  my  parent.”  The  major  looked  anx- 
iously around  him.  “ Make  yourself  easy,  we  are  quite  alone,” 
said  Andrea  ; “ besides,  we  are  conversing  in  Italian.” 

“Well,  then,”  replied  the  major,  “ they  paid  me  50,000  francs 
down.  I have  proofs.”  The  major  drew  from  his  pocket  a hand- 
ful of  gold.  “ Most  palpable,”  said  he,  “as  you  may  perceive.” 
“ You  think,  then,  that  I may  rely  on  the  count’s  promises  ? ” 
“To  the  letter ; but  at  the  same  time,  remember,  we  must  con- 
tinue to  play  our  respective  parts.  I,  as  a tender  father ” 

“And  I as  a dutiful  son,  as  they  choose  that  I shall  be  de- 
scended from  you.” 

“ Who  do  you  mean  by  they  ? ” 

“ I can  hardly  tell,  but  I was  alluding  to  those  who  wrote  the  let- 
ter ; you  received  one,  did  you  not  ? ” 

“ From  Abbe  Busoni.” 

“ Have  you  any  knowledge  of  him?'* 

“ No,  I have  never  seen  him.” 

14  What  did  he  say  in  the  letter  ? ’* 


2/2 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


The  major  gave  a letter  into  the  young  man’s  hand.  Andrea 
read  in  a low  voice : — 

44  You  are  poor  ; a miserable  old  age  awaits  you.  Would  you 
like  to  become  rich,  or  at  least  independent?  Set  out  immedi- 
ately for  Paris,  and  ask  of  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo,  Avenue  des 
Champs  Ely  sees,  No.  30,  the  son  whom  you  had  by  the  Marchesa 
Corsin-ari,  and  who  was  taken  from  you  at  five  years  of  age.  This 
son  is  named  Andrea  Cavalcanti.  In  order  that  you  may  not 
doubt  the  kind  intention  of  the  writer  of  this  letter,  you  will  find 
enclosed  an  order  for  2,4.00  francs,  payable  in  Florence,  atGozzi’s  ; 
also  a letter  of  introduction  to  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo,  on 
whom  I give  you  a draft  of  48,000  francs.  Remember  to  go  to  the 
count  on  the  26th  May  at  seven  o’clock  in  the  evening. 

(Signed)  " Abbe  Busoni.” 

" I received  a letter  almost  to  the  same  effect.” 

" From  Busoni  ? ” " No  ; from  an  English  Lord,  Wilmore, 

who  takes  the  name  of  Sinbad  the  Sailor.”. 

41  And  of  whom  you  have  no  more  knowledge  than  I of  the 
ft.bbe  Busoni  ? ” 

" You  are  mistaken  ; there  I am  in  advance  of  you.” 

"You  have  seen  him,  then?” 

" Yes,  once.” 

" Where  ? ” 

"Ah!  that  is  just  what  I cannot  tell  you;  if  I did,  I should 
make  you  as  wise  as  myself,  which  it  is  not  my  intention  to  do.” 

" And  what  did  the  letter  contain  ? ” 

" Read  it.” 

" 4 You  are  poor,  and  your  future  prospects  are  dark  and  gloomy. 
Do  you  wish  for  a name  ? should  you  like  to  be  rich,  and  your  own 
master?  ’ ” 

" Per  Baccho /”  said  the  young  man;  14  was  it  possible  there 
could  be  two  answers  to  such  a question  ? ” 

" 1 Take  the  post-chaise  which  you  will  find  waiting  at  the  Porte 
de  Genes,  as  you  enter  Nice  ; pass  through  Turin,  Chambery,  and 
Pont-de-Beauvoisin.  Go  to  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo,  Avenue 
des  Champs-Elysees,  on  the  26th  of  May,  at  seven  o’clock  in  the 
evening,  and  demand  of  him  your  father.  You  are  the  son  of  the 
Cavalcanti  and  the  Marchesa  Oliva  Corsinari.  The  marquis  will 
give  you  some  papers  which  will  certify  this  fact,  and  authorize 
you  to  appear  under  that  title.  An  annual  income  of  50,000  livres 
will  enable  you  to  support  it  admirably.  I enclose  a draft  for 
5,000  livres,  payable  on  Signor  Ferrea,  banker  at  Nice,  and  also 
a letter  of  introduction  to  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo,  whom  I have 
directed  to  supply  all  your  wants.  " * Sinbad  the  Sailor.*  ” 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 273 

••  Humph!**  said  the  major;  “ very  good!  Do  you  under- 
stand it  ? ” 

“ Not  in  the  least.” 

" There  is  a dupe  somewhere.” 

“ At  all  events,  it  is  neither  you  nor  I.” 

“ It  does  not  much  concern  us  ; do  you  think  it  does?” 

“No!  I agree  with  you  there  ; we  must  play  the  game  to  the 
end,  and  consent  to  be  blindfold.” 

“ Monte-Cristo  chose  this  moment  for  re-entering  the  drawing- 
room. On  hearing  the  sound  of  his  footsteps,  the  two  men  threw 
themselves  in  each  other’s  arms  ; and,  in  the  midst  of  this  em- 
brace, the  count  entered. 

“Well,  marquis,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  “ you  appear  to  be  in  no 
way  disappointed  in  the  son  whom  your  good  fortune  has  restored 
to  you.”  “ Ah  ! Count,  I am  overwhelmed  with  delight.” 

“And  what  are  your  feelings?”  said  Monte-Cristo,  turning  to 
the  young  man. 

“ My  heart  is  overflowing  with  happiness.” 

“ Happy  father  ! happy  son  ! ” said  the  count. 

“ There  is  only  one  thing  which  grieves  me,”  observed  the  ma- 
jor, “and  that  is  the  necessity  there  is  for  my  leaving  Paris  so 
soon.” 

“ Ah ! my  dear  M.  Cavalcanti,  I trust  you  will  not  leave  before 
I have  had  the  honor  of  presenting  you  to  some  of  my  friends.” 

“ I am  at  your  service,  sir,”  replied  the  major. 

“Now,  sir,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  addressing  Andrea,  “tell  M. 
Cavalcanti  something  of  the  state  of  your  finances.” 

“ You  have  touched  upon  a tender  cord.” 

“ Your  son  says  he  requires  money.” 

“ Well ! what  would  you  have  me  do  ? ” said  the  major. 

“ You  should  furnish  him  with  some,  of  course,”  replied  Monte- 
Cristo,  at  the  same  time  advancing  toward  Andrea,  and  slipping  a 
packet  of  bank-notes  into  the  young  man’s  hand. 

“ From  your  father.” 

“ From  my  father?” 

“ Yes  ; did  you  not  tell  him  just  now  that  you  wanted  money  ? 
Well,  then,  he  deputes  me  to  give  you  this,  for  the  first  expenses  of 
your  settling  in  Paris.” 

“ Ah  ! how  good  my  dear  father  is  ! ” 

“ Silence  ! ” said  Monte-Cristo ; “he  does  not  wish  you  to  know 
that  it  comes  from  him.” 

“I  fully  appreciate  his  delicacy,”  said  Andrea,  cramming  the 
notes  hastily  into  his  pocket. 

“ And  now,  gentlemen,  I wish  you  good  morning,”  said  Monte- 
Cristo. 

“And  when  shall  we  have  the  honor  of  seeing  you  again,  lord* 
ship?  ” asked  Cavalcanti. 

“ Ah ! ” said  Andrea,  “ when  may  we  hope  for  that  pleasure  ? M 

*8 


27  4 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


"On  Saturday,  if  you  will — yes. — Let  me  see — Saturday — I am 
to  dine  at  my  country-house,  at  Auteuil.  Several  persons  are  in- 
vited, and  amongst  others,  M.  Danglars,  your  banker.  I will  in- 
troduce you  to  him  ; for  it  will  be  necessary  he  should  know  you, 
as  be  is  to  pay  your  money.” 

" Full  dress?  ” said  the  major,  half  aloud. 

" Oh  ! yes,  certainly,”  said  the  count  ; " uniform,  cross,  med- 
als, and  so  on.” 

" And  how  shall  I be  dressed  ? ” demanded  Andrea. 

"Oh!  very  simply.  Go  to  Blin  or  Veronique  for  your  suit, 
Baptistin  w!!i  tell  you  where.  The  less  pretension  in  your  dress, 
the  better  will  be  the  effect,  as  you  are  a rich  man.  If  you  mean 
to  buy  any  horses,  get  them  of  Devedeux  ; and  if  a phaeton,  go 
to  Baptiste  for  it.** 

"At  what  hour  shall  we  come  ? ” asked  the  young  man. 

" About  half-past  six.” 

"We  will  be  with  you  at  that  time,”  said  the  major.  The  two 
Cavalcanti  bowed  to  the  count,  and  left  the  house.  Monte-Cristo 
went  to  the  window,  and  saw  them  crossing  the  street,  arm  in  arm. 
"There  go  two  rascals!”  said  he.  "It  is  a pity  they  are  not 
really  related!  ” then,  after  an  instant  of  gloomy  reflection  said 
he  : " Come,  I will  go  to  see  the  Morrels  ! I think  that  disgust  is 

even  more  sickening  that  hatred.” 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

THE  TRYSTING  PLACE. 

In  the  enclosure  surrounding  Villefort’s  house,  Maximilian  wa* 
the  first  to  arrive.  He  was  intently  watching  for  a shadow  to  ap< 
pear  amongst  the  trees,  and  awaiting  with  anxiety  the  sound  of  a 
light  step  on  the  gravel  walk.  At  length,  the  long-desired  sound 
was  heard,  and  instead  of  one  figure,  as  he  had  expected,  he 
perceived  that  two  were  approaching  him.  The  delay  had  been 
occasioned  by  a visit  from  Madame  Danglars  and  Eugenie,  which 
had  been  prolonged  beyond  the  time  at  which  Valentine  was  ex* 
pected.  In  the  space  of  about  half  an  hour  the  ladies  retired,  and 
Maximilian  understood  that  the  Danglars’  visit  had  at  last  come  to 
a conclusion.  In  a few  minutes  Valentine  re-entered  the  garden 
alone.  For  fear  that  any  one  should  be  observing  her  return,  she 
walked  slowly  ; and  instead  of  immediately  directing  her  steps  to- 
ward the  gate,  she  seated  herself  on  a bank,  and,  carefully  casting 
her  eyes  around,  to  convince  herself  that  she  was  not  watched,  she 
presently  rose,  and  proceeded  quickly  to  join  Maximilian. 

" Good  evening,  Valentine,”  said  a well-known  voice. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 275 

•«  Good  evening,  Maximilian  ; I know  I have  kept  you  waiting, 
but  you  saw  the  cause  of  my  delay/’ 

«•  Yes,  I recognized  Mdlle.  Danglars.  I was  not  aware  that  you 
were  so  intimate  with  her.” 

“ We  were  having  a confidential  conversation,”  returned 
Valentine;  “she  was  telling  to  me  her  repugnance  to  marriage 
with  M.  de  Morcerf  ; and  I,  on  the  other  hand,  was  confessing  to 
her  how  wretched  it  made  me  to  think  of  marrying  M.  d’Epinay.” 

“ Dear  Valentine  ! ” 

“That  will  account  to  you  for  the  unreserved  manner  which 
you  observed  between  me  and  Eugenie  ; as  in  speaking  of  the 
man  whom  I could  not  love,  my  thoughts  involuntarily  reverted  to 
him  on  whom  my  affections  were  fixed.’’ 

“ Ah,  how  good  you  are  to  say  so,  Valentine  ! Does  Mdlle. 
Danglars  object  to  this  marriage  with  Morcerf  on  account  of  loving 
another?  ” 

“She  told  me  that  she  loved  no  one,”  said  Valentine  ; “dis- 
liked the  idea  of  being  married  ; would  infinitely  prefer  leading 
an  independent  and  unfettered  fife  ; and  almost  wished  her 
father  might  lose  his  fortune,  that  she  might  become  an  artiste  like 
her  friend,  Louise  d’Armilly.” 

“ Must  you  leave  me  soon  ? ” 

Mdme.  de  Villefort  sent  to  request  my  presence,  as  she  had  a 
communication  to  make  on  which  a part  of  my  fortune  depended. 
Let  them  take  my  fortune,  I am  already  too  rich  ; and,  perhaps, 
when  they  have  taken  it,  they  will  leave  me  in  peace  and  quiet- 
ness. You  would  love  me  as  much  if  I were  poor,  would  you  not, 
Maximilian  ? ” 

“Oh!  I shall  always  love  you.  What  should  I care  for  either 
riches  or  poverty,  if  my  Valentine  was  near  me,  and  I felt  certain 
that  no  one  could  deprive  me  of  her?  But  do  you  not  fear  that 

this  communication  may  relate  to  your  marriage  ? ” “ I do  not 

think  that  is  the  case.” 

“ But  I was  going  to  tell  you  that  I met  M.  de  Morcerf  the 
other  day.  He  has  received  a letter  from  his  friend  Franz,  an- 
nouncing his  immediate  return.”  Valentine  turned  pale,  and 
leaned  against  the  gate  for  support. 

“ Can  it  really  be  true,  and  is  that  why  Mdme.  de  Villefort 
has  sent  for  me?  No,  that  cannot  be  the  case,  for  the  communi- 
cation would  not  be  likely  to  ceme  through  her  instrumentality. 
It  has  appeared  as  if  she  secretly  objected  to  the  marriage,  al- 
though she  did  not  choose  openly  to  oppose  it.” “ Is  it  so? 

Then  I feel  as  if  I could  adore  Mdme.  de  Villefort.” 

“ Do  not  be  in  such  a hurry  to  do  that,”  said  Valentine,  with  a 
sad  smile. 

“If  she  objects  to  your  marrying  M.  d’Epinay,  she  would  be 
&U  the  more  likely  to  listen  to  any  other  proposition.” “No, 


2J6 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


Maximilian,  it  is  not  suitors  to  which  Mdme.  de  Villefort  objects, 
it  is  marriage  itself.” 

“ Tell  me  what  interest  Mdme.  de  Villefort  can  have  in  your  re- 
maining unmarried  ? ” 

“ Did  I not  tell  you  just  now  that  I was  rich,  Maximilian — too 
rich  ? I possess  nearly  50,000  livres  in  right  of  my  mother  ; my 
grandfather  and  my  grandmother,  the  Marquis  and  Marchioness 
St.  Meran,  will  leave  me  as  much  more  : and  M.  Noirtier  evidently 
intends  making  me  his  heiress.  My  brother  Edward,  who  inherits 
nothing  Irom  his  mother,  will,  therefore,  be  poor  in  comparison 
with  me.  Now,  if  I had  took  the  veil,  all  this  fortune  would 
have  descended  to  my  father,  and,  in  reversion,  to  his  son.” 

4 Ah ! how  strange  it  seems  that  such  a young  and  beautiful 
Woman  should  be  so  avaricious.” 

“ It  is  not  for  herself  that  she  is  so,  but  for  her  son  ; and  what 
you  regard  as  a vice  becomes  almost  a virtue  when  looked  at  in 
the  light  of  maternal  love.” 

91  But  could  you  not  compromise  matters,  and  give  up  a portion 
of  your  fortune  to  her  son  ? * 

“ How  could  I make  such  a proposition,  especially  to  a woman 
who  always  professes  to  be  entirely  disinterested?  ” 

“Valentine,  I have  always  regarded  our  love  in  the  light  of 
something  sacred  ; consequently,  I have  covered  it  with  the  veil 
of  respect,  and  hid  it  in  the  inmost  recesses  of  my  soul ; no  human 
being,  not  even  my  sister,  is  aware  of  its  existence.  Valentine, 
will  you  permit  me  to  make  a confidant  of  a friend,  and  reveal  to 
him  the  love  I bear  you?  ” 

Valentine  started.  “A  friend,  Maximilian;  and  who  is  this 
friend  ! I tremble  to  give  my  permission.** 

99  Listen,  Valentine.  Have  you  never  experienced  for  any  one 
that  sudden  and  irresistible  sympathy  which  made  you  feel  as  if 
the  object  of  it  had  been  your  old  and  familiar  friend,  though,  in 
reality,  it  was  the  first  time  you  had  ever  met  ? ’* 

99  You  have  known  him  for  some  time,  then?  ” 

91  Scarcely  longer  than  eight  or  ten  days.** 

“And  do  you  call  a man  your  friend  whom  you  have  onlyr 
known  for  eight  or  ten  days?  Ah,  Maximilian,  I had  hoped  you 
set  a higher  value  on  the  title  of  friend.’* 

“Your  logic  is  most  powerful,  Valentine;  but  say  what  you 
will,  I can  never  renounce  the  sentiment  which  has  instinctively 
taken  possession  of  my  mind.  I feel  as  if  it  were  ordained  that 
this  man  should  be  associated  with  all  the  good  which  the  future 
may  have  in  store  for  me  , and  sometimes  it  really  seems  as  if  his 
eye  was  able  to  see  what  was  to  come,  and  his  hand  endowed 
with  the  power  of  directing  events  according  to  his  own  will.** 

“ He  must  be  a prophet,  then,*’  said  Valentine  ; “ do  let  me  see 
this  man,  Maximilian  ; he  may  tell  me  whether  I shall  ever  be 
loved  sufficiently  to  make  amends  for  all  I have  suffered.” 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  277 

“ My  poor  girl ! you  know  him  already.  He  saved  the  life  of 
your  step-mother  and  her  son.” 

“ The  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  ? ” “ The  same.” 

“ Ah ! ” cried  Valentine,  0 he  is  too  much  the  friend  of  Mdme. 
de  Villefort  ever  to  be  mine.” 

“The  friend  of  Mdme.  de  Villefort!  It  cannot  be;  surely, 
Valentine,  you  are  mistaken?  ” 

“ No,  indeed,  I am  not ; for  I assure  you,  his  power  over  our 
household  is  almost  unlimited.  He  appears  to  exert  a mysterious 
and  almost  uncontrollable  influence  over  all  the  members  of  our 
family.” 

“ If  such  be  the  case,  my  dear  Valentine,  you  must  yourself 
have  felt,  or  at  all  events  will  soon  feel,  the  effects  of  his  presence. 
He  meets  Albert  de  Morcerf  in  Italy — it  is  to  rescue  him  from 
banditti' ; he  introduces  himself  to  Mdme.  Danglars — to  give  her  a 
royal  present  ; your  step-mother  and  her  son  pass  before  his  door 
— his  Nubian  saves  them  from  destruction.  This  man  evidently 
possesses  the  power  of  influencing  events,  both  as  regards  men 
and  things.  I never  saw  more  simple  tastes  united  to  greater 
magnificence.  His  smile  is  so  sweet  when  he  addresses  me,  that  I 
forget  it  can  ever  be  bitter  to  others.  Ah  ! Valentine,  tell  me,  if 
he  ever  looked  on  you  with  one  of  those  sweet  smiles?  if  so, 
depend  on  it,  you  will  be  happy.” 

“ Me  ! ” said  the  girl,  “ he  never  even  glances  at  me  ; on  the 
contrary,  if  I accidentally  cross  his  path,  he  appears  rather  to 
avoid  me.  Ah,  he  is  not  generous,  neither  does  he  possess  that 
supernatural  penetration  which  you  attribute  to  him  ; for  if  he  had, 
he  would  have  perceived  that  I was  unhappy  ; and  if  he  had 
been  generous,  seeing  me  sad  and  solitary,  he  would  have  used 
his  influence  to  my  advantage  ; and  since,  as  you  say,  he  re- 
sembles the  sun,  he  would  have  warmed  my  heart  with  one  of  his 
life-giving  rays.  You  say  he  loves  you,  Maximilian  ; how  do  you 
know  that  he  does?  All  would  pay  deference  to  an  officer  like 
you,  with  a fierce  moustache  and  a long  sabre ; but  they  think 
they  may  crush  a poor  weeping  girl  with  impunity.” 

“ Ah,  Valentine  ! I assure  you  you  are  mistaken.” 

“If  it  were  otherwise — if  he  treated  me  diplomatically — that  is 
to  say,  like  a man  who  wishes,  by  some  means  or  other,  to  obtain 
a footing  in  the  house,  so  that  he  may  ultimately  gain  the  power  of 
dictating  to  its  occupants — he  would,  if  it  had  been  but  once,  have 
honored  me  with  the  smile  which  you  extol  so  loudly  ; but  no,  he 
saw  that  I was  unhappy  ; he  understood  that  I could  be  of  no  use 
to  him,  and  therefore  paid  me  no  regard  whatever.  Ah  ! forgive 
me,”  said  Valentine,  perceiving  the  effect  which  her  words  were 
producing  on  Maximilian;  “I  do  not  deny  the  influence  of 
which  you  speak,  or  that  I have  not  myself  experienced  it ; but 
with  me  it  has  been  productive  of  evil  rather  than  good.” 


27$ 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


“Well,  Valentine,”  said  Morrel,  with  a sigh,  we  will  not  dis- 
Cuss  the  matter  further.  I will  not  make  a confidant  of  him/* 

“ Alas!  ” said  Valentine,  “ I see  that  I have  given  you  pain.  I 
can  only  say  how  sincerely  I ask  pardon  for  having  grieved  you* 
But,  indeed,  I am  not  prejudiced  beyond  the  power  of  convic- 
tion. Tell  me  what  this  count  of  Monte-Cristo  has  done  for 
you?  ** 

“I  own  that  your  question  embarrasses  me,  Valentine,  for  I 
cannot  say  that  the  count  has  rendered  me  any  ostensible  service. 
Still,  a secret  voice  seems  to  whisper  to  me  that  there  must  be 
something  more  than  chance  in  this  unexpected  reciprocity  of 
friendship.  In  his  most  simple  actions,  as  well  as  in  his  most 
secret  thoughts,  I find  a relation  to  my  own.  You  will  perhaps 
smile  at  me  when  I tell  you  that,  ever  since  I have  known  this 
man,  I have  involuntarily  entertained  the  idea  that  all  the  good 
fortune  which  has  befallen  me  originated  from  him.  However,  I 
have  managed  to  live  thirty  years  without  this  protection,  you 
will  say  ; but  I will  endeavor  a little  to  illustrate  my  meaning.  He 
invited  me  to  dine  with  him  on  Saturday,  which  was  a very  nat- 
ural thing  for  him  to  do.  Well,  what  have  I learned  since  ? That 
your  mother  and  M.  de  Villefort  are  both  coming  to  this  dinner. 
I shall  meet  them  there,  and  who  knows  what  future  advantages 
may  result  from  the  interview  ? This  may  appear  to  you  to  be  no 
unusual  combination  of  circumstances  ; nevertheless,  I perceive 
some  hidden  plot  in  the  arrangement — something,  in  fact,  more 
than  is  apparent  on  a casual  view  of  the  subject.” 

“ If  you  have  no  stronger  proof  to  give  me ** 

“I  have  another,**  replied  Maximilian;  ‘‘but  I fear  you  will 
deem  it  even  more  absurd  than  the  first.  Look  through  this 
opening,  and  you  will  see  the  beautiful  new  horse  which  I rode 
nere.” 

“ Ah  ! what  a beautiful  creature  ! *'  cried  Valentine  : “ why  did 
you  not  bring  it  close  to  the  gate,  that  I might  talk  to  it  and  pat 
it?’* 

“It  is,  as  you  say,  a very  valuable  animal,**  said  Maximilian. 
“ You  know  that  my  means  are  limited,  and  that  I am  what  would 
be  designated  a man  of  moderate  pretensions.  Well,  I went  to  a 
horse-dealer’s,  where  I saw  this  magnificent  horse,  which  I have 
named  Medea.  I asked  the  price  of  it  ; they  told  me  it  was  4, 500 
francs.  I was,  therefore,  obliged  to  give  it  up,  as  you  may  imag- 
ine ; but  I own  I went  away  with  rather  a heavy  heart,  for  I was 
altogether  fascinated  with  it.  The  same  evening  some  friends  of 
mine  visited  me.  I never  play,  for  I am  not  rich  enough  to  afford 
to  lose,  nor  sufficiently  poor  to  desire  to  gain.  But  I was  at  my 
own  house,  you  understand,  so  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but 
to  seffid  for  cards,  which  I did.  Just  as  they  were  sitting  down  to 
table,  Monte-Cristo  arrived.  He  took  his  seat  amongst  them ; 
hey  played,  and  I won.  I am  almost  ashamed  to  say  that  my 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


279 


gains  amounted  to  5,000  francs.  We  separated  at  midnight.  I 
could  not  defer  my  pleasure,  so  I took  a cabriolet  and  drove  to  the 
horse-dealer’s.  Feverish  and  excited,  I rang  at  the  door.  The 
person  who  opened  it  must  have  taken  me  for  a madman,  for  I 
rushed  at  once  to  the  stable.  Medea  was  standing  at  the  rack, 
eating  her  hay.  I immediately  put  on  the  saddle  and  bridle,  to 
which  operation  she  lent  herself  with  the  best  grace  possible  ; 
then,  putting  the  4,500  francs  into  the  hands  of  the  astonished 
dealer,  I proceeded  to  fulfil  my  intention  of  passing  the  night  in 
riding  in  the  Champs  Elysees.  As  I rode  by  the  count’s  house  I 
perceived  a light  in  one  of  the  windows,  and  fancied  I saw  the 
shadow  of  his  figure  moving  behind  the  curtain.  Now,  Valentine, 
I firmly  believe  that  he  knew  of  my  wish  to  possess  this  horse,  and 
that  he  lost  expressly  to  give  me  the  means  of  procuring  it.” 

«*  My  dear  Maximilian,  you  are  really  too  fanciful ; you  will  not 
love  even  me  long.  A man  who  accustoms  himself  to  live  in  such 
a world  of  poetry  and  imagination  must  find  far  too  little  excite- 
ment in  a common,  every-day  sort  of  attachment  such  as  ours. 

But  they  are  calling  me.  Do  you  hear  ? ” " Ah,  Valentine  ! ” 

"give  me  but  one  finger  through  this  opening  in  the  grating,  that 
I may  the  happiness  of  kissing  it.” 

Valentine  mounted  the  bank,  and  passed  not  only  her  finger 
but  her  whole  hand  through  the  opening.  Maximilian  uttered  a 
cry  of  delight,  and,  springing  forward,  seized  the  hand  extended 
toward  him,  and  imprinted  on  it  a fervent  and  impassioned  kiss. 
The  little  hand  was  then  immediately  withdrawn,  and  the  young 
man  saw  Valentine  hurrying  toward  the  house,  as  though  she 
were  almost  terrified  at  her  own  sensations. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

THE  PARALYTIC 

We  will  now  relate  what  was  passing  in  the  house  after  the 
departure  of  Mdme.  Danglars  and  her  daughter,  and  during  the 
conversation  between  Maximilian  and  Valentine,  just  detailed. 
Villefort  entered  his  father's  room,  followed  by  his  wife.  Both  of 
the  visitors,  after  saluting  the  old  man  and  speaking  to  Barrois,  a 
faithful  servant,  twenty-five  years  in  his  service,  took  their  places 
on  either  side  of  the  paralytic. 

M.  Noirtier  was  sitting  in  an  arm-chair,  which  moved  upon 
castors,  in  which  he  was  wheeled  into  the  room  in  the  morning, 
and  in  the  same  way  drawn  out  again  at  night.  He  was  placed  be- 
fore a large  glass,  which  reflected  the  whole  apartment,  and  per- 
mitted him  to  see,  without  any  attempt  to  move,  which  would  have 
been  impossible,  all  who  entered  the  room,  and  everything  which 


280 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


was  going  on  around  him.  M.  Noirter,  although  almost  as  inv 
movable  and  helpless  as  a corpse,  looked  at  the  new  comers  with 
a quick  and  intelligent  expression,  perceiving  at  once,  by  their 
ceremonious  courtesy,  that  they  were  come  on  business  of  an  un- 
expected and  official  character.  Sight  and  hearing  were  the  only 
senses  remaining,  and  they  appeared  left,  like  two  solitary  sparks, 
to  animate  the  miserable  body  which  seemed  fit  for  nothing  but 
the  grave.  The  speaking  eye  sufficed  for  all.  He  commanded 
with  it ; it  was  the  medium  through  which  his  thanks  were  con- 
veyed. Three  persons  only  could  understand  this  language  of  the 
poor  paralytic  ; these  were  Villefort,  Valentine,  and  the  old  serv- 
ant of  whom  we  have  already  spoken.  But  as  Villefort  saw  his 
father  but  seldom,  and  then  only  when  absolutely  obliged,  and  as 
he  never  took  any  pains  to  please  or  gratify  him  when  he  was 
there,  all  the  old  man’s  happiness  was  centred  in  his  grand- 
daughter ; Valentine,  by  means  of  her  love,  her  patience,  and  her 
devotion,  had  learned  to  read  in  Noirtier’s  look  all  the  varied  feel- 
ings which  were  passing  his  mind.  Villefort  did  not  need  the  help 
of  either  Valentine  or  the  domestic  in  order  to  carry  on  with  his 
father  the  strange  conversation  which  he  was  about  to  begin.  As 
we  have  said,  he  perfectly  understood  the  old  man’s  vocabulary  ; 
and  if  he  did  not  use  it  more  often,  it  was  only  indifference  and 
listlessness  which  prevented  him  from  so  doing  ; he  therefore  al- 
lowed Valentine  to  go  into  the  garden,  sent  away  Barrois,  and 
after  having  taken  a place  on  the  right  hand  of  his  father,  while 
Mdme.  de  Villefort  seated  herself  on  the  left,  he  addressed  him 
thus : — 

“ I trust  you  will  not  be  displeased,  sir,  that  Valentine  has  not 
come  with  us,  or  that  I dismissed  Barrois,  for  our  conference  will 
be  one  which  could  not  with  propriety  be  carried  on  in  the  pres- 
ence of  either ; Mdme.  Villefort  and  I have  a communication  to 
make  to  you.” 

Noirtier’s  face  remained  perfectly  passive  during  this  long  pre- 
amble ; whilst,  on  the  contrary,  the  eye  of  Villefort  was  en- 
deavoring to  penetrate  into  the  inmost  recesses  of  the  old  man’s 
heart. 

“ Sir,”  resumed  Villefort,  “we  are  thinking  of  marrying  Valen- 
tine.” Had  the  old  man’s  face  been  moulded  in  wax,  it  could 
not  have  shown  less  emotion  at  this  news  than  was  now  to  be 
traced  there.  “ The  marriage  will  take  place  in  less  than  three 
months,”  said  Villefort.  Noirtier’s  eyes  still  retained  its  inani- 
mate expression. 

Mdme.  de  Villefort  now  took  her  part  in  the  conversation,  and 
added, — “ We  thought  this  news  would  possess  an  interest  for  you, 
sir,  who  have  always  entertained  a great  affection  for  Valentine  ; 
it  therefore  only  now  remains  for  us  to  tell  you  the  name  of  the 
young  man  for  whom  she  is  destined.  It  is  M.  Franz  de  QuesneU 
I3aron  Epinay.” 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO,  2o\ 

During  the  time  that  his  wife  was  speaking,  Villefort  had  nar- 
rowly watched  the  countenance  of  the  old  man. 

Noirtier’s  look  was  furious  : it  was  very  evident  that  something 
desperate  was  passing  in  the  old  man’s  mind,  for  the  cry  of  anger 
and  grief  rose  to  his  throat,  and  not  being  able  to  find  vent  in 
utterance,  appeared  almost  to  choke  him,  for  his  face  and  lips 
turned  quite  purple  with  the  struggle.  Villefort  quietly  opened  a 
window,  saying,  “It  is  very  warm  8 and  the  heat  effects  M.  Noir- 
tier.”  He  then  returned  to  his  place,  but  did  not  sit  down.  “This 
marriage,”  added  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  “is  quite  agreeable  to  the 
wishes  of  M.  d’Epinay  and  his  family  : besides,  he  had  no  rela- 
tions nearer  than  an  uncle  and  aunt,  his  mother  having  died  at 
his  birth,  and  his  father  having  been  assassinated  in  1815,  that  is 
to  say,  when  he  was  but  two  years  old  ; it  naturally  followed  that 
the  child  was  permitted  to  choose  his  own  pursuits,  and  he  has, 
therefore,  seldom  acknowledged  any  other  authority  but  that  of 
his  own  will.” 

“ That  assassination  was  a mysterious  affair,”  said  Villefort, 
“and  the  perpetrators  have  hitherto  escaped  detection  ; although 
suspicion  has  fallen  on  the  head  of  more  than  one  person.” 
Noirtier  made  such  an  effort  that  his  lips  expanded  into  a smile. 

“Now,”  continued  Villefort,  “those  to  whom  the  guilt  really 
belongs,  by  whom  the  crime  was  committed,  on  whose  heads  the 
justice  of  man  may  probably  descend  here,  and  the  certain  judg- 
ment of  God  hereafter,  would  rejoice  in  the  opportunity  thur 
afforded  of  bestowing  such  a peace-offering  as  Valentine  on  the 
son  of  him  whose  life  they  so  ruthlessly  destroyed.”  Noirtier  had 
succeeded  in  mastering  his  emotion  more  than  could  have  been 
deemed  possible  with  such  an  enfeebled  and  shattered  frame. 
“Yes,  I understand,”  was  the  reply  contained  in  his  look  ; and 
this  look  expressed  a feeling  of  strong  indignation,  mixed  with 
profound  contempt.  Villefort  fully  understood  his  father’s  mean- 
ing, and  answered  by  a slight  shrug  of  his  shoulders.  He  then 
motioned  to  his  wife  to  take  leave.  They  bowed  and  left  the  room, 
giving  orders  that  Valentine  should  be  summoned  to  her  grand- 
father’s presence,  and  feeling  sure  that  she  would  have  much  to 
do  to  restore  calmness  to  the  perturbed  spirit.  Valentine,  with  a 
color  still  heightened  by  emotion,  entered  the  room  just  after  her 
parents  had  quitted  it.  One  look  was  sufficient  to  tell  her  that  her 
grandfather  was  suffering,  and  that  there  was  much  on  his  mind 
which  he  was  wishing  to  communicate  to  her. 

“Dear  grandpapa,”  cried  she,  ciwhat  has  happened?  They 
have  vexed  you,  and  you  are  angry?  ” The  paralytic  closed  his 
eyes  in  assent.  “Who  has  displeased  you  ? Is  it  my  father?” 

" No.” “Mdme  de  Villefort?” “ No.” 

#“  Me  ? ” The  former  sign  was  repeated.  “ Are  you  displeased 
with  me?”  cried  Valentine  in  astonishment.  M Noirtier  again 


282 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


closed  his  eyes.  44  And  what  have  I done,  dear  grandpapa,  tlv  ^ 
you  should  be  angry  with  me  ? ” cried  Valentine. 

There  was  no  answer  ; and  she  continued,  44 1 have  not  seen  ye© 
all  day.  Has  anyone  been  speaking  to  you  against  me  ? ” — 

44  Yes,”  said  the  old  man’s  look,  with  eagerness. 

44  Let  me  think  a moment.  I do  assure  you,  grandpapa Ab! 

M.  and  Mdme  de  Villefort  have  just  left  this  room,  have  they 
not?” 

44  Yes.” 

44  Ah  ! I know,”  said  she,  lowering  her  voice  and  going  close  to 
the  old  man,  44  they  have  been  speaking  of  my  marriage, — have 
they  not?” 

44  Yes,”  replied  the  angry  look. 

44 1 understand  ; you  are  afraid  I shall  be  unhappy?  ” 

44  Yes.” 

44  You  do  not  like  M.  Franz?” 

The  eyes  repeated  several  times,  44  No,  no,  no.” 

“Then  you  are  vexed  with  the  engagement?” 44  Yes,*' 

44  Well,  listen,’ 1 said  Valentine,  throwing  herself  on  her  knees, 
and  puting  her  arm  round  her  grandfather’s  neck.  44 1 am  vexed, 
too,  for  I do  not  love  M.  Franz  d’Epinay.”  An  expression  of  in- 
tense joy  illuminated  the  old  man’s  eyes.  44  When  I wished  to  re- 
tire into  a convent,  you  remember  how  angry  you  were  with  me  ? ” 
A tear  trembled  in  the  eye  of  the  invalid.  44  Well,”  continued 
Valentine,  44  the  reason  of  my  proposing  it  was  that  I might  escape 
this  hateful  marriage,  which  drives  me  to  despair.”  Noirtier’s 
breathing  became  thick  and  short.  44  Then  the  idea  of  this  mar- 
riage really  grieves  you  too  ? Ah,  if  you  could  but  help  me — if  we 
could  both  together  defeat  their  plan  ! But  you  are  unable  to  op- 
pose them  ; you,  whose  mind  is  so  quick,  and  whose  will  is  so 
firm,  are,  nevertheless,  as  weak  and  unequal  to  the  contest  as  I am 
myself.  Alas,  you,  who  would  have  been  such  a powerful  pro- 
tector to  me  in  the  days  of  your  health  and  strength,  can  now  only 
sympathize  in  my  joys  and  sorrows,  without  being  able  to  take  any 
active  part  in  them.  However,  this  is  much,  and  calls  for  grati- 
tude ; and  Heaven  has  not  taken  away  all  my  blessings  when  it 
leaves  me  your  sympathy  and  kindness.” 

At  these  words  there  appeared  in  Noirtier’s  eye  an  expression  of 
such  deep  meaning  that  the  girl  thought  she  could  read  these 
words  there,  44  You  are  mistaken  ; I can  still  do  much  for  you.” 

44  Do  you  think  you  can  help  me,  dear  grandpapa  ? ” said  Valen- 
tine. 

44  Yes.”  Noirtier  raised  his  eyes  ; it  was  the  sign  agreed  on  be- 
tween him  and  Valentine  when  he  wanted  anything. 

44  What  is  it  you  want,  dear  grandpapa?”  said  Valentine,  and 
she  endeavored  to  recall  to  mind  all  the  things  which  he  would 
be  likely  to  need  ; and  as  the  ideas  presented  themselves  to  he* 
mind,  she  repeated  them  aloud  ; but  finding  that  all  her  efforts 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  283 


elicited  nothing  but  a constant  "No,"  " Come,"  said  she,  **  since 
this  plan  does  not  answer,  I will  have  recourse  to  another.”  She 
then  recited  all  the  letters  of  the  alphabet  from  A down  to  N. 
When  she  arrived  at  that  letter,  the  paralytic  made  her  under- 
stand that  was  the  initial  letter  of  the  thing  which  he  wanted. 
"Ah,”  said  Valentine,  " the  thing  you  desire  begins  with  the  letter 
N ; it  is  with  N that  we  have  to  do,  then.  Well,  let  me  see,  what 
can  you  want  which  begins  with  N ? Na — Ne — Ni — No — ” 

" Yes,  yes,  yes,”  said  the  old  man’s  eye. 

"Ah,  it  is  No,  then?” "Yes.”  Valentine  fetched  a 

dictionary,  which  she  placed  on  a desk  before  Noirtier ; she 
opened  it,  and,  seeing  that  the  old  man’s  eye  was  thoroughly  fixed 
on  its  pages,  she  ran  her  finger  quickly  up  and  down  the  columns. 
During  the  six  years  which  had  passed  since  Noirtier  first  fell  into 
this  sad  state,  Valentine’s  powers  of  invention  had  been  too  often 
put  to  the  test  not  to  render  her  expert  in  devising  expedients  for 
gaining  a knowledge  of  his  wishes  ; and  the  constant  practice  had 
so  perfected  her  in  the  art,  that  she  guessed  the  old  man’s  mean- 
ing as  quickly  as  if  he  himself  had  been  able  to  seek  for  what  he 
wanted.  At  the  word  Notary , Noirtier  made  a sign  to  her  to  stop. 
Valentine  rang  the  bell,  and  ordered  the  servant  to  tell  M.  or 
Mdme.  de  Villefort  that  they  were  requested  to  come  to  M.  Noir- 
tier’s room.  M.  de  Villefort  entered,  followed  by  Barrois. 

" Sir,”  said  Valentine,  " my  grandfather  wishes  for  a notary.  ’ 
" What  do  you  want  with  a notary?  ” asked  Villefort.  The  in- 
valid’s eye  remained  fixed,  by  which  expression  he  intended  to  in- 
timate that  his  resolution  was  unalterable.  "Is  it  to  do  us  some 
ill  turn?  Do  you  think  it  is  worth  while?  ” said  Villefort. 

" Still,”  said  Barrois,  with  the  freedom  and  fidelity  of  an  old 
servant,  "if  M.  Noirtier  asks  for  a notary,  I suppose  he  really 
wishes  for  a notary  ; therefore  I shall  go  at  once  and  fetch  one.” 
Three-quarters  of  an  hour  after,  Barrois  returned,  bringing  the 
notary  with  him. 

" Sir,”  said  Villefort,  after  the  first  salutations  were  over,  " you 
were  sent  for  by  M.  Noirtier,  whom  you  see  here.  All  his  limbs 
have  become  completely  paralyzed,  he  has  lost  his  voice  also,  and 
we  ourselves  find  much  trouble  in  endeavoring  to  catch  some 
fragments  of  his  meaning.”  Noirtier  cast  an  appealing  look  on 
Valentine,  which  look  was  at  once  so  earnest  and  imperative, 
that  she  answered  immediately.  "Sir,”  said  she,  "I  perfectly 
understand  my  grandfather’s  meaning  at  all  times.” 

" That  is  quite  true  ” said  Barrois  ; " and  that  is  what  I told  the 
gentleman  as  we  walked  along.” " Permit  me,”  said  the  no- 

tary, turning  first  to  Villefort  and  then  to  Valentine — "In  order 
to  render  an  act  valid,  I must  be  certain  of  the  approbation  or  dis- 
approbation of  my  client.  Illness  of  the  body  would  not  affect 
the  validity  of  the  deed  ; but  sanity  of  mind  is  absolutely  requi- 
site.” 


^84  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 

•'  Well,  sir,  by  the  help  of  two  signs,  which  I will  acquaint  yob 
presently,  you  may  ascertain  with  perfect  certainty  that  my  grand- 
father is  still  in  the  full  possession  of  all  his  mental  faculties.  M. 
Noirtier,  being  deprived  of  voice  and  motion,  is  accustomed  to 
convey  his  meaning  by  closing  his  eyes  when  he  wishes  to  signify 
•yes,’  and  to  wink  v/hen  he  means  ‘no.’  You  now  know  quite 
enough  to  enable  you  to  converse  with  M.  Noirtier  ; try.”  Noir- 
tier gave  Valentine  such  a look  of  tenderness  and  gratitude  that 
it  was  comprehended  even  by  the  notary  himself. 

“ You  have  heard  and  understood  what  your  granddaughter  has 
been  saying,  sir,  have  you?”  asked  the  notary.  Noritier  closed 
his  eyes.  “And  you  approve  of  what  she  said — that  is  to  say, 
you  declare  that  the  signs  which  she  mentioned  are  really  those 
by  means  of  which  you  are  accustomed  to  convey  your  thoughts?  ” 

“ Yes.” 

“Let  us  try  what  we  can  do,  then,”  said  the  notary.  “You 
accept  this  young  lady  as  your  interpreter,  M.  Noirtier  ? ” 

“ Yes,” 

“ Well,  sir,  what  do  you  require  of  me,  and  what  document  is 
it  that  you  wish  to  be  drawn  up?  ” Valentine  named  all  the  let- 
ters of  the  alphabet  until  she  came  to  W.  At  this  letter  the  elo- 
quent eye  of  Noirtier  gave  her  notice  that  she  was  to  stop. 

“It  is  very  evident  that  it  is  the  letter  W which  Mr.  Noirtier 
wants,”  said  the  notary. 

“ Wait,”  said  Valentine;  and,  turning  to  her  grandfather,  she 
repeated,  “ Wa — We — Wi — ” The  old  man  stopped  her  at  the 
last  syllable.  Valentine  then  took  the  dictionary,  and  the  notary 
watched  her  whilst  she  turned  over  the  pages.  She  passed  her 
finger  slowly  down  the  columns,  and  when  she  came  to  the  word 
“ Will,”  M.  Noirtier’s  eye  bade  her  stop. 

“ Will ! ” cried  the  notary  ; “it  is  very  evident  that  M.  Noirtier 
is  desirous  of  making  his  will.” — —“Yes,  yes,  yes!”  motioned 
the  invalid. 

“Really,  sir,  you  must  allow  that  this  is  most  extraordinary,” 
said  the  astonished  notary,  turning  to  M.  de  Villefort.  “Yes,” 
said  the  procureur,  “ and  I think  the  will  promises  to  be  yet  more 
extraordinary  ; for  I cannot  see  how  it  is  to  be  drawn  up  without 
the  intervention  of  Valentine,  and  she  may,  perhaps,  be  con- 
sidered as  too  much  interested  in  its  contents  to  allow  of  her  being 
a suitable  interpreter  of  the  obscure  and  ill-defined  wishes  of  her 
grandfather.” 

“No,  no,  no  ! ” replied  the  eye  of  the  paralytic. 

“What ! ” said  Villefort,  “ do  you  mean  to  say  that  Valentine 
is  not  interested  in  your  will?  ” 

“ No.” 

“ Sir,”  said  the  notary,  whose  interest  had  been  greatly  excited, 
and  who  had  resolved  on  publishing  far  and  wide  the  account  of 
this  extraordinary  and  picturesque  scene,  “ what  appeared  so  im- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


28$ 


possible  to  me  an  hour  ago,  has  now  become  quite  easy  and  prac- 
ticable ; and  this  may  be  a perfectly  valid  will,  provided  it  be  read 
in  the  presence  of  seven  witnesses,  approved  by  the  testator,  and 
sealed  by  the  notary  in  the  presence  of  the  witnesses.  As  to  the 
time,  it  will  certainly  occupy  rather  more  than  the  generality  of 
wills.  There  are  certain  forms  necessary  to  be  gone  through,  and 
which  are  always  the  same.  As  to  the  details,  the  greater  part 
■ will  be  furnished  afterwards,  by  the  state  in  which  we  find  the 
affairs  of  the  testator,  and  by  yourself,  who,  hs.ving  had  the  man- 
agement of  them,  can,  doubtless,  give  full  information  on  the  sub- 
ject. But  besides  all  this,  in  order  that  the  instrument  may  not  be 
contested,  I am  anxious  to  give  it  the  greatest  possible  authentic- 
ity ; therefore,  one  of  my  colleagues  will  help  me,  and,  contrary 
to  custom,  will  assist  in  the  dictation  of  the  testament.  Are  you 
satisfied,  sir?  ” continued  the  notary,  addressing  the  old  man. 

“ Yes,”  looked  the  invalid,  his  eye  beaming  with  delight  at  his 
meaning  being  so  well  understood. 

'•  What  is  he  going  to  do  ? ” thought  Villefort,  whose  position  de- 
manded so  much  reserve,  but  who  was  longing  to  know  what 
were  the  intentions  of  his  father.  He  left  the  room  to  give  orders 
for  another  notary  to  be  sent,  but  Barrois,  who  had  heard  all  that 
passed,  had  guessed  his  master’s  public  wishes,  and  had  already 
gone  to  fetch  one.  The  public  prosecutor  then  told  his  wife  to  come 
up.  In  the  course  of  a quarter  of  an  hour  every  one  had  assembled  iiv 
the  chamber  of  the  paralytic  ; the  second  notary  had  also  arrived, 
A few  words  sufficed  for  a mutual  understanding  between  the  two 
officers  of  the  law. 

In  the  strange  yet  clear  mode  of  Noirtier  he  signified  that  he 
had  nearly  a hundred  thousand  francs  of  securities  which  would 
have  been  inherited  by  Valentine  but  should  she  marry  Epinay, 
he  revoked  his  intentions  and  would  bestow  it  in  charity. 

The  prosecutor  pretended  to  be  resigned,  but  quitted  the  room 
hastily  with  his  wife. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

THE  TELEGRAPH. 

^ The  Villeforts  found  on  their  return  that  the  Count  of  Monte- 
£risto,  come  in  their  absence,  had  been  ushered  into  the  drawing- 
room,  and  was  still  awaiting  them  there.  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  not 
yet  sufficiently  recovered  from  her  late  emotion  to  allow  of  her 
entertaining  visitors  so  immediately,  retired  to  her  bed-room, 
whilst  her  husband  who  could  better  depend  upon  himself,  pro- 
ceeded at  once  to  the  drawing-room.  Although  Villefort  flattered 
himself  that,  to  all  outward  view,  he  had  completely  masked  the 


2 86 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


feelings  which  were  passing  in  his  mind,  he  did  not  know  that  the 
cloud  was  still  lowering  on  his  brow,  so  much  so  that  the  count 
immediately  remarked  his  sombre  and  thoughtful  air.  “ Faith ! ” 
said  Monte-Cristo,  after  the  first  compliments  were  over,  “ what 
is  the  matter  with  you,  M.  de  Villefort?  Have  I arrived  at  the 
moment  that  you  were  drawing  up  some  case  of  capital  indict- 
ment?” Villefort  tried  to  smile.  “ No,  count,”  repliedM.de 
Villefort,  “ I am  the  only  victim  in  this  case.  It  is  I who  lose  my 
cause  ; and  it  is  ill-luck,  obstinacy,  and  folly  which  have  caused  it 
lo  be  decided  against  me.” 

“ To  what  do  you  allude  ? ” said  Monte-Cristo,  with  well-feigned 
interest.  “ Have  you  really  met  with  some  great  misfortune  ?” 

“ Oh  ! ” said  Villefort,  with  a bitter  smile,  “ it  is  only  a loss  of 
money  which  I have  sustained,  though,  after  all,  900,000  francs 
are  worth  regretting  ; but  I am  the  more  annoyed  with  this  fate, 
chance,  or  whatever  you  please  to  call  the  power  which  has  de- 
stroyed my  hopes  and  my  fortune,  and  may  blast  the  prospects  of 
my  child  also,  as  it  is  all  occasioned  by  an  old  man  relapsed  into 
second  childhood.” 

“ What  do  you  say  ? ” said  the  count  ; “900,000  francs ! it  is  in- 
deed a sum  which  might  be  regretted  even  by  a philosopher.  And 
who  is  the  cause  of  all  this  annoyance  ? ” 

“My  father,  as  I told  you.” 

“ M.  Noirtier ! but  I thought  you  told  me  he  had  become  en- 
tirely paralyzed,  and  that  all  his  faculties  were  completely  de- 
stroyed ? ” 

“ Yes,  his  bodily  faculties,  for  he  can  neither  move  nor  speak, 
nevertheless  he  thinks,  acts,  and  wills  in  the  manner  I have  de- 
scribed. I left  him  about  five  minutes  ago,  and  he  is  now  occu- 
pied in  dictating  his  will  to  two  notaries.” •“  But  to  do  this  he 

must  have  spoken  ? ” 

“ He  has  done  better  than  that — he  has  made  himself  under- 
stood.’* 

“ How  was  such  a thing  possible  ? ” 

“ By  the  help  of  his  eyes,  which  are  still  full  of  life,  and,  as  you 
perceive,  possess  the  power  of  inflicting  mortal  injury.” 

“ My  dear,”  said  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  who  had  just  entered  the 
room,  “perhaps  you  exaggerate  the  evil.” 

“ Good  morning,  madame!  ” said  the  count,  bowing.  Mdme. 
de  Villefort  acknowledged  the  salutation  with  one  of  her  most 
gracious  smiles.  “ What  is  this  that  M.  de  Villefort  has  been  tell- 
ing me?”  demanded  Monte-Cristo,  “ and  what  incomprehensible 
.misfortune 

' “ Incomprehensible  is  not  the  word  ! ” interrupted  the  lawyer, 

shrugging  his  shoulders.  “ It  is  an  old  man’s  caprice.” 

“ And  is  there  no  means  of  making  him  revoke  his  decision  ? ” 

“Yes,”  said  Mdme.  de  Villefort  ; “ and  it  is  still  entirely  in  the 
power  of  my  husband  to  cause  the  will,  which  is  now  in  prejudice 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


28  7 


of  Valentine*  to  be  altered  in  her  favor.' * The  count,  who  per- 
ceived that  the  Villeforts,  were  beginning  to  speak  in  parables,  ap-. 
peared  to  pay  no  attention  to  the  conversation,  and  feigned  to  be 
busily  engaged  in  watching  Edward,  mischievously  pouring  ink 
into  the  bird’s  water-glass. 

44  My  dear,”  said  Villefort,  in  answer  to  his  wife,  44  you  know  I 
have  never  been  accnstomed  to  play  the  patriarch  in  my  family, 
nor  have  I ever  considered  that  the  fate  of  a universe  was  to  be 
decided  by  my  nod.  Nevertheless,  it  is  necessary  that  my  will 
should  be  respected  in  my  family  , and  that  the  folly  of  an  old  man 
and  the  caprice  of  a child  should  not  be  allowed  to  overturn  a 
project  which  I have  entertained  for  so  many  years.  The  Baron 
d’Epinay  was  my  friend,  as  you  know,  and  an  alliance  'with  his 
son  is  the  most  suitable  thing  that  could  possibly  be  arranged.” 
“What!  ” said  the  count,  the  approbation  of  whose  eye  Ville- 
fort had  frequently  solicited  during  the  speech.  44  What!  do  you 
say  that  M.  Noirtier  disinherits  Mdlle.  Villefort  because  she  is  go- 
ing to  marry  Baron  Epinay  ? ” 44  Yes,  sir,  that  is  the  reason,” 

said  Villefort,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 

44 1 believe  I know  M.  Franz  d’Epinay,”  said  the  count  ; 41  is  he 
not  the  son  of  General  Quesnel,  who  was  created  Baron  d’Epinay 
by  Charles  X.  ? ” 

44  The  same,”  said  Villefort. 

44  Although  General  d’Epinay  served  under  Napoleon,  did  he 
not  still  retain  royalist  sentiments  ? And  was  he  not  the  person 
murdered  one  evening  on  leaving  a Bonapartist  meeting  to  which 
he  had  been  invited  on  the  supposition  of  his  favoring  the  cause  of 
the  emperor?  ” Villefort  looked  at  the  count  almost  with  terror. 

41  The  facts  were  precisely  what  you  have  stated,”  said  Mdme. 
de  Villefort  ; 44  and  it  was  to  prevent  the  renewal  of  old  feuds  that 
M.  de  Villefort  formed  the  idea  of  uniting  in  the  bonds  of  affection 
the  two  children  of  these  inveterate  enemies.” 

44  It  was  a sublime  and  charitable  thought,”  said  Monte-Cristo, 
and  the  whole  world  should  applaud  it.  It  would  be  noble  to 
see  Mdlle.  Noirtier  de  Villefort  assuming  the  title  of  Mdme. 
d’Epinay.”  Villefort  shuddered  and  looked  at  Monte-Cristo  as  if 
he  wished  to  read  in  his  countenance  the  real  feelings  which  had 
dictated  the  words  he  had  just  pronounced.  But  the  count  com- 
pletely baffled  the  lawyer’s  penetration,  and  prevented  him  from 
discovering  anything  beneath  the  never-varying  smile  he  was  so 
constantly  in  the  habit  of  assuming. 

44  Although,”  said  De  Villefort,  44  it  will  be  a serious  thing  for 
Valentine  to  lose  the  fortune  of  her  grandfather,  I do  not  think  the 
marriage  will  be  prevented  on  that  account,  nor  do  I believe  that 
M.  d’Epinay  will  be  frightened  at  this  pecuniary  loss  ; he  will, 
perhaps,  hold  me  in  greater  esteem  than  the  money  itself,  seeing 
that  I sacrifice  everything  in  order  to  keep  my  word  with  him  ; be- 
sides, he  knows  that  Valentine  is  rich  in  right  of  her  mother,  and 


288 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


that  she  will,  in  all  probability,  inherit  the  fortune  of  Saint 
Merans,  her  mother’s  parents,  who  both  love  her  tenderly.’* 

44  And  who  are  fully  as  well  worth  loving  and  tending  as  M.  de 
Noirtier,”  said  Mdme.  de  Villefort  ; "besides,  they  are  to  come  to 
Paris  in  about  a month,  and  Valentine,  after  the  affront  she  has 
received,  need  not  consider  it  necessary  to  continue  to  bury  her- 
self alive  by  being  shut  up  with  M.  Noirtier.” 

The  count  listened  with  satisfaction  to  this  tale  of  wounded  self- 
love  and  defeated  ambition.  44  But  it  seems  to  me,”  said  Monte- 
Cristo,  44  and  I must  begin  by  asking  your  pardon  for  what  I am 
about  to  say,  that  if  M.  Noirtier  disinherits  Mdlle.  de  Villefort  on 
account  of  her  marrying  a man  whose  father  he  detested,  he  can- 
not have  the  same  cause  of  complaint  against  our  dear  Edward.” 

“True,”  said  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  with  an  intonation  of  voice 
which  it  is  impossible  to  describe  ; is  it  not  unjust — shamefully  un- 
just ? Poor  Edward  is  as  much  M.  Nortier’s  grandchild  as  Val- 
entine, and  yet,  if  she  had  not  been  going  to  marry  M.  Franz,  M 
Nortier  would  have  left  her  all  his  money  ; and  supposing  Valen- 
tine to  be  disinherited  by  her  grandfather,  she  will  still  be  three 
times  richer  than  he.”  The  count  listened  and  said  no  more. 

44  However,”  said  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  returning  to  the  one  idea 
which  incessantly  occupied  her  mind,  44  perhaps  it  would  be  bet- 
ter to  represent  this  unlucky  affair  to  M.  d’Epinay,  in  order  to  give 
him  the  opportunity  of  himself  renouncing  his  claim  to  the  hand  of 
Mdlle.  de  Villefort” 

44  Undoubtedly,”  said  Villefort,  moderating  his  voice  ; 44  a mar- 
riage, once  concerted  and  then  broken  off,  throws  a sort  of  dis- 
credit  on  a young  lady  ; then,  again,  the  old  reports,  which  I was 
so  anxious  to  put  an  end  to,  will  instantly  gain  ground, — no,  it  will 
all  go  well  ; M.  d’Epinay,  if  he  is  an  honorable  man,  will  con- 
sider himself  more  than  ever  pledged  to  Mdlle.  de  Villefort  ; un- 
less he  were  actuated  by  a decided  feeling  of  avarice  ; but  that  is 
impossible. 

" I agree  with  M.  de  Villefort,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  fixing  his 
eyes  on  Mdme.  de  Villefort;  "and  if  I were  sufficiently  intimate 
with  him  to  allow  of  giving  my  advice,  I would  persuade  him, 
since  I have  been  told  M.  d’Epinay  is  coming  back,  to  settle  this 
affair  at  once  beyond  ail  possibility  of  revocation.  I will  answer 
for  the  success  of  a project  which  will  reflect  so  much  honor  on 
M.  de  Villefort.”  The  proctor  rose,  delighted  with  the  proposition, 
but  his  wife  slightly  changed  color.  4 4 Well,  that  is  all  that  I wanted, 
and  I will  be  guided  by  a counsellor  such  as  you  are,”  said  he, 
extending  his  hand  to  Monte-Cristo.  Therefore  let  everyone  here 
look  upon  what  has  passed  to-day  as  if  it  had  not  happened,  and 
as  though  we  had  never  thought  of  such  a thing  as  a change  in  our 
original  plans.** 

44  Sir,”  said  the  count,  44  the  world,  unjust  as  it  is,  will  be  pleased 
with  your  resolution  ; your  friends  will  be  proud  of  you,  and  M, 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  289 


<8J£pinay,  even  Ce  took  Mdlle.  de  Villefort  without  any  dowry, 
wnich  he  will  not  do,  would  be  delighted  with  the  idea  of  entering 
a family  which  could  make  such  sacrifices  in  order  to  keep  a 
promise  and  fulfil  a duty.”  At  the  conclusion  of  these  words,  the 
count  rose  to  depart.  “ Are  you  going  to  leave  us.  Count  ? ” said 
Mdme.  de  Villefort. 

«« I am  sorry  to  say  I must  do  so,  madame  ; I only  came  to  re* 
mind  you  of  your  promise  for  Saturday.” 

“ Ah  ! ” said  Villefort,  “is  it  at  your  house  in  the  Champs- 
Elysees  that  you  receive  your  visitors  ? ” 

“ No,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  “ which  is  precisely  the  reason  which 
renders  your  kindness  more  meritorious, — it  is  in  the  country,  only 
a mile  out — at  Auteuil.” 

“ At  Auteuil?  ” said  Villefort ; “ true,  Mdme.  de  Villefort  told 
me  you  lived  at  Auteuil,  since  it  was  to  your  house  that  she  was 
taken.  And  in  what  part  do  you  reside  ? ” 

“ Fontaine  street.” 

“Fontaine  street!”  exclaimed  Villefort,  in  an  agitated  tone; 
“ at  what  number  ? ’ * 

‘ No.  28.” 

“Then,”  cried  Villefort,  “was  it  you  who  bought  the  Saint- 
Meran  house  ? ” 

“ Did  it  belong  to  Saint-Meran  ?”  demanded  Monte-Cristo. 

“ Yes,”  replied  Mdme.  de  Villefort:  “ and,  would  you  believe 
it,  my  husband  would  never  live  in  it.” 

"'Indeed!”  returned  Monte-Cristo;  “that  is  a prejudice  on 
your  part,  M.  de  Villefort,  for  which  I am  quite  at  a loss  to  ac- 
count.” 

“ I do  not  like  Auteuil,  sir,”  said  the  lawyer,  making  an  evident 
effort  to  appear  calm. 

“ But  I hope  you  will  not  carry  your  antipathy  so  far  as  to  de- 
prive me  of  the  pleasure  of  your  company,  sir!”  said  Monte- 
Cristo. 

“ No, — I hope— I assure  you  I will  do  all  I can,’*  stammered 
Villefort. 

“ Oh,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  “ I allow  of  no  excuse.  On  Satur- 
day,  at  six  o’clock,  I shall  be  expecting  you,  and  if  you  fail  to 
come,  I shall  think — for  how  do  I know  to  the  contrary? — that  this 
house,  which  has  remained  uninhabited  for  twenty  years,  must 
have  some  gloomy  tradition  or  dreadful  legend  connected  with 
it.” 

“ I will  come, — I will  be  sure  to  come,”  said  Villefort,  eagerly. 

“ Thank  you,”  said  Monte-Cristo;  “ now  you  must  permit  me 
to  take  my  leave  of  you.” 

“ You  said  before  you  were  obliged  to  leave  us,  M.  le  Comte,” 
said  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  “ and  you  were  about  to  tell  us  the  na- 
ture of  the  engagement  which  was  to  deprive  us  of  the  pleasure  of 

19 


29° 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


your  society,  when  your  attention  was  called  to  some  other  sub- 
ject.” 

" Indeed,  madame  ! ” said  Monte-Cristo  ; “ I scarcely  know  if 

I dare  tell  you  where  I am  going.” “ Bah ! ” 

“ Well,  then,  it  is  to  see  a thing  on  which  I have  sometimes 
mused  for  hours  together.  A telegraph.  So  now  I have  told  my 
secret.” 

A telegraph  ! ” repeated  Mdme  de  Villefort. 

“ Yes,  a semaphore  telegraph  ! I had  often  seen  one  placed  at 
the  end  of  a road  on  a hillock,  and  in  the  light  of  the  sun  its  black 
arms,  always  reminded  one  of  the  claws  of  an  immense  beetle : 
and  I assure  you  it  was  never  without  emotion  that  I gazed  on  it, 
for  I could  not  help  thinking  how  wonderful  it  was  that  these  odd 
signs  should  be  sent  by  one  man  sitting  at  a table  to  another 
standing  at  a desk,  and  I should  like  to  be  the  master  spirit  who 
dictates  this  mystic  language.” 

" Shall  I give  you  a letter  to  see  an  office  in  full  work  ? ” 

“ Never  mind,  they  would  not  work  naturally  under  inspection 
of  the  bearer  of  a government  permit.  What  line  is  most  interest* 
in g?” 

"The  Spanish  one  is  most  busy.” 

" Thanks !” 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

THE  PHANTOM. 

At  first  sight  the  exterior  of  the  house  at  Auteuil,  presented  neifh. 
ing  one  would  expect  from  the  destined  residence  of  the  magnifi* 
cent  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  ; but  this  simplicity  was  but  accord- 
ing to  the  will  of  its  master,  who  positively  ordered  nothing  to  be 
altered  outside  ; this  was  seen  by  examining  the  interior.  The 
scene  changed.  M.  Bertuccio  had  outdone  himself  in  the  taste 
displayed  in  furnishing,  and  in  the  rapidity  with  which  it  was  exe- 
cuted. In  three  days  had  been  planted  an  entirely  bare  court  with 
poplars,  large  spreading  sycamores  shading  the  different  parts  of 
the  house,  before  which,  instead  of  the  usual  paving-stones,  half 
hidden  by  the  grass,  there  extended  a turf  lawn  but  that  morning 
laid  down,  and  upon  which  the  water  was  yet  glistening.  Thus  the 
house  had  become  unrecognizable,  and  Bertuccio  himself  declared 
he  scarcely  knew  it,  encircled  as  it  was  by  trees.  The  overseer  would 
not  have  objected,  while  he  was  about  it,  to  have  made  some  im- 
provements in  the  garden,  but  the  count  had  positively  forbidden 
it  to  be  touched.  Bertuccio  made  amends,  however,  by  loading 
the  antechambers,  staircases,  and  chimneys  with  flowers.  That 
which,  above  all,  manifested  the  shrewdness  of  the  steward,  and 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


291 

the  profound  science  of  the  master,  the  one  in  carrying  out  the 
ideas  of  the  other,  was,  that  this  house,  which  appeared  only  the 
night  before  so  sad  and  gloomy,  impregnated  with  that  sickly 
smell  of  time,  had,  in  one  day,  acquired  the  aspect  of  life,  was 
scented  with  its  master’s  favorite  perfumes,  and  had  the  very  light 
regulated  ascording  to  his  wish.  When  the  count  arrived,  he  had 
urfder  his  touch  his  books  and  arms,  his  eyes  rested  upon  his  fa- 
vorite pictures  ; his  dogs,  whose  caresses  he  loved,  welcomed  him 
in  the  antechamber ; the  birds,  whose  songs  delighted  him, 
cheered  him  with  their  music  ; and  the  house,  awakened  from  its 
'long  sleep,  like  the  sleeping  beauty  in  the  wood,  lived,  sang,  and 
bloomed  like  the  houses  we  have  long  cherished,  and  in  which 
when  we  are  forced  to  leave  them,  we  leave  a part  of  our  souls 
The  servants  passed  gayly  along  the  fine  court-yard,  some,  be- 
longing to  the  kitchens,  gliding  down  the  stairs,  restored  but 
the  previous  day,  as  if  they  had  always  inhabited  the  house ; 
others  filling  the  coach-houses,  where  the  equipages  appeared  to 
have  been  installed  for  the  last  fifty  years ; and  in  the  stables  the 
horses  replied  by  neighing  to  the  grooms,  who  spoke  to  them  with 
much  more  respect  than  many  servants  pay  their  masters. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  house,  to  match  with  the  library,  was 
the  conservatory,  ornamented  with  rare  flowers,  blossoming  in 
china  jars  ; and  in  the  midst  of  the  greenhouse,  marvellous  alike 
to  sight  and  smell,  was  a billiard-table,  apparently  abandoned 
during  the  last  hour  by  the  players,  who  had  left  the  balls  on  the 
cloth.  One  chamber  alone  had  been  respected  by  Bertuccio.  Be- 
fore this  room,  to  which  you  could  ascend  by  the  grand,  and  go 
out  by  the  back  staircase,  the  servants  passed  with  curiosity,  and 
Bertuccio  with  terror.  At  five  o’clock  precisely,  the  count  arrived 
before  the  house  followed  by  Ali.  Bprtuccio  was  awaiting  this  ar- 
rival with  impatience,  mingled  with  uneasiness ; he  hoped  for 
some  compliments,  while,  at  the  same  time,  he  feared  to  have 
frowns.  Monte-Cristo  descended  into  the  court-yard,  walked  all 
over  the  house,  without  giving  any  sign  of  approbation  or  dis- 
pleasure, until  he  entered  his  bed-room,  situated  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  closed  room  ; when  he  approached  a little  piece  of  fur- 
niture, made  of  rosewood,  which  we  remember  to  have  noticed  on 
a previous  occasion.  " That  will  at  least  serve  to  put  my  gloves 
in,”  he  said. 

“ Will  your  Excellency  deign  to  open  it  ?”  said  the  delighted 
Bertuccio,  **  and  you  will  find  gloves  in  it.”  In  all  the  rest  of  the 
furniture  the  count  found  everything  he  required — smell-bottles, 
cigars,  trinkets,  odds  and  ends. 

“ Good  ! ” he  said  ; and  M.  Bertuccio  left  enraptured,  so  great, 
so  powerful,  and  real  was  the  influence  exercised  by  this  man  over 
all  who  surrounded  him. 

precisely  six  o’clock  the  clatter  of  horses’  hoofs  was  heard  at 
ti  entrance  door  ; it  was  our  captain  of  Spahis,  who  had  arrived 


292 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


on  Medea.  44  I am  sure  I am  the  first/*  cried  Morrel ; 41  I did  it 
on  purpose  to  have  you  a minute  to  myself,  before  every  one 
came.  Julie  and  Emmanuel  have  a thousand  things  to  tell  you 
Ah ! really  this  is  magnificent ! But  tell  me,  count,  will  your 
people  take  care  of  my  horse  ? ” 

“ Do  not  alarm  yourself,  my  dear  Maximilian — they  understand.’* 
44  I mean,  because  he  wants  petting.  If  you  had  seen  at  what  a 

pace  he  came,  like  the  wind  ! ” 44  I should  think  so, — a horse 

that  cost  5,000  francs!**  said  Monte-Cristo,  in  the  tone  which  a 
father  would  use  toward  a son. 

44  Do  you  regret  them  ? **  asked  Morrel,  with  his  open  laugh. 

11 1?  Certainly  not ! ’*  replied  the  count.  44  No  ; I should  only 

regret  if  the  horse  had  not  proved  good.” 44  It  is  so  good,  that 

I have  distanced  M.  de  Chateau- Re naud,  one  of  the  best  riders  in 
France,  and  M.  Debray  who  both  mount  the  minister’s  Arabians  ; 
and  close  at  their  heels  are  the  horses  of  Mdme.  Danglars,  who 
always  go  at  six  leagues  an  hour.’* 

44  Then  they  follow  you  ? **  asked  Monte-Cristo. 

44  See,  they  are  here  ! ’*  And  at  the  same  minute  a carriage 
with  smoking  horses,  accompanied  by  two  mounted  gentlemen, 
arrived  at  the  gate,  which  opened  before  them.  The  carriage 
drove  round,  and  stopped  at  the  steps,  followed  by  the  horsemen. 
The  instant  Debray  had  touched  the  ground,  he  was  at  the  car- 
riage door.  He  offered  his  hand  to  the  baroness,  who,  descend- 
ing, took  it  with  a peculiarity  imperceptible  to  everyone  but  Monte- 
Cristo.  But  nothing  escaped  the  count’s  notice  ; and  he  observed 
a little  note,  slipped  with  an  indescribable  ease,  bespeaking  fre- 
quent practice,  from  the  lady’s  hand  to  that  of  the  minister’s  sec- 
retary. After  his  wife  the  banker  descended,  pale,  as  though  he 
had  issued  from  his  tomb,  instead  of  his  carriage.  Mdme.  Dan- 
glars threw  a rapid  and  inquiring  glance  around,  which  could  only 
be  interpreted  by  Monte-Cristo,  embracing  the  court-yard,  and  the 
front  of  the  house  ; then,  repressing  slight  emotion,  which  must  have 
been  seen  on  her  countenance  if  she  had  permitted  her  face  to  be- 
come pale,  she  ascended  the  steps,  saying  to  Morrel,  44  Sir,  if  you 
were  a friend  of  mine,  I should  ask  you  if  you  would  sell  your 
horse  ? ’ * 

Morrel  smiled  with  an  expression  very  like  a grimace,  and  then 
turned  round  to  Monte-Cristo,  as  if  to  ask  him  to  extricate  him 
from  his  embarrassment.  The  count  understood  him.  “Ah, 
madame  ! **  he  said,  44 1 am  witness  that  M.  Morrel  cannot  give  up 
his  horse,  his  honor  being  engaged  in- keeping  it.  He  laid  a wager 
he  would  tame  Medea  in  the  space  of  six  months.  You  under- 
stand now  that  if  he  were  to  get  rid  of  it  before  the  time  named, 
he  would  not  only  lose  his  bet,  but  people  would  say  he  was  afraid 
of  it ; and  a brave  captain  of  Spahis  cannot  risk  this,  even  to  grat- 
ify a pretty  woman,  which  is,  in  my  opinion,  one  of  the  most  sacred 
obligations  in  the  world/' 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  293 

You  see  my  position,  madame,”  said  Morrel,  bestowing  a 
grateful  smile  on  Monte-Cristo. 

“It  seems  to  me,”  said  Danglars,  in  his  coarse  tone,  ill-con- 
cealed by  a forced  smile,  “that  you  have  already  got  horses 
enough.”  Mdme.  Danglars  seldom  allowed  remarks  of  this  kind 
to  pass  unnoticed  ; but,  to  the  surprise  of  the  young  people,  she 
pretended  not  to  hear  it,  and  said  nothing.  Monte-Cristo  smiled 
at  her  unusual  humility,  and  showed  her  two  immense  porcelain 
jars,  covered  with  marine  plants,  of  a size  and  delicacy  that  could 
alone  emanate  from  nature.  The  baroness  was  astonished. 
“ Why,”  said  she,  “ you  could  plant  one  of  the  chestnut-trees  in 
the  Tuileries  inside  ! How  can  such  enormous  jars  have  been 

manufactured  ; ” “ Ah,  madame  ! ” replied  Monte-Cristo,  “you 

must  not  ask  of  us,  the  manufacturers,  such  a question.  It  is 
tne  work  of  another  age,  constructed  by  the  genii  of  earth  and 
water.” 

“ How  so? — at  what  period  can  that  have  been?  ” 

“ I do  not  know  ; I have  only  heard  that  an  emperor  of  China 
had  an  oven  built  expressly,  and  that  in  this  oven  twelve  jars  like 
this  were  successively  baked.  Two  broke,  from  the  heat  of  the 
fire  ; the  other  ten  were  sunk  three  hundred  fathoms  deep  into 
the  sea.  The  sea,  knowing  what  was  required  of  her,  threw  over 
them  her  weeds,  encircled  them  with  coral,  and  encrusted  them 
with  shells  ; the  whole  was  cemented  by  two  hundred  years  be- 
neath these  almost  impervious  depths,  for  a revolution  carried 
away  the  emperor  who  wished  to  make  the  trial,  and  only  left  the 
documents  proving  the  manufacture  of  the  jars  and  their  descent 
into  the  sea.  At  the  end  of  two  hundred  years  the  documents 
were  found,  and  they  thought  of  bringing  up  the  jars.  Divers 
descended  in  machines,  made  expressly  on  the  discovery,  into  the 
bay  where  they  were  thrown  ; but  of  ten  three  only  remained,  the  rest 
having  been  broken  by  the  waves.  I am  fond  of  these  jars,  upon 
which,  perhaps,  misshapen,  frightful  monsters  have  fixed  their 
cold,  dull  eyes,  and  in  which  myriads  of  small  fish  have  slept, 
seeking  a refuge  from  the  pursuit  of  their  enemies.”  Meanwhile, 
Danglars,  who  had  cared  little  for  curiosities,  was  mechanically 
tearing  off  the  blossoms  of  a splendid  orange-tr^e,  one  after 
another.  When  he  had  finished  with  the  orange-tree  he  began  at 
the  cactus  ; but  this,  not  being  so  easily  plucked  as  the  orange- 
tree,  pricked  him  dreadfully.  He  shuddered,  and  rubbed  his  eyes 
as  though  awaking  from  a dream. 

“Sir,”  said  Monte-Cristo  to  him,  “ I do  not  recommend  my 
pictures  to  you,  who  possess  such  splendid  paintings  ; but,  never- 
theless, here  are  several  worth  looking  at.” 

“ Stay  ! ” said  Debray  ; “ I recognize  this  Hobbema.' * 

“ Ah,  indeed  ! ” “ Yes  ; it  was  offered  to  the  Museum.” 

“ Which,  I believe,  does  not  contain  one  ? '*  said  Monte-Cristo. 
“ No  ; and  yet  they  refused  to  buy  it.” 


294 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


"Why?"  said  Chateau-Renaud. 

"You  pretend  not  to  know, — because  government  was  not  rich 
enough." 

" Major  Bartolomeo  Cavalcanti  and  Count  Andrea  Cavalcanti ! " 
announced  Baptistin.  A black  satin  stock,  fresh  from  the  maker’s 
hands,  grey  moustaches,  a bold  eye,  a major’s  uniform,  ornamented 
with  three  medals  and  five  crosses — in  fact,  the  thorough 
bearing  of  an  old  soldier — such  was  the  appearance  of  Major  Bar- 
tolomeo Cavalcanti,  that  affectionate  father.  Close  to  him,  dressed 
in  entirely  new  clothes,  advanced  smilingly  Count  Andrea  Caval- 
canti, the  dutiful  son,  whom  we  also  know.  The  three  were  talk- 
ing togetherc  On  the  entrance  of  the  new-comers,  their  eyes 
glanced  from  father  to  son,  and  then,  naturally  enough,  rested  on 
the  latter,  whom  they  began  criticizing. 

" Cavalcanti!  " said  Debray. 

" A fine  name,"  said  Morrel. 

44  Yes,”  said  Chateau-Renaud,  " these  Italians  are  well  named 
and  badly  dressed." 

44  You  are  fastidious,  Chateau-Renaud,"  replied  Debray,  "those 
clothes  are  well  cut  and  quite  new." 

"That  is  just  what  I find  fault  with.  That  gentleman  appears 
to  be  well  dressed  for  the  first  time  in  his  life." 

"Who  are  those  gentlemen?"  asked  Danglars  of  Monte- 
Cristo. 

" Ah ! true.  You  do  not  know  the  Italian  nobility  ; the  Caval- 
canti are  all  descended  from  princes." 

" Have  they  any  means  ? " 

" Enormous ! " 

"What  do  they  dp  ! " 

"Try  to  spend  it  all.  They  have  some  business  with  you,  I 
think,  from  what  they  told  me  the  day  before  yesterday.  I,  in- 
deed, invited  them  here  to-day  on  your  account.  I will  introduce 
you  to  them." 

"But  they  appear  to  speak  French  with  a very  pure  accent," 
said  Danglars. 

"The  son. has  been  educated  in  a college  in  the  south  ; I be- 
lieve near  Marseilles.  You  will  find  him  quite  enthusiastic." 

"Upon  what  subject?  " asked  Mdme.  Danglars. 

"The  French  ladies,  madame.  He  has  made  up  his  mind  to 
take  a wife  from  Paris.” 

"A  fine  idea  that  of  his!  " said  Danglars,  shrugging  his 
shoulders.  Mdme.  Danglars  looked  at  her  husband  with  an  ex- 
pression which,  at  any  other  time,  would  have  indicated  a storm, 
but  she  controlled  herself. 

" The  baron  appears  thoughtful  to-day,”  said  Monte-Cristo  to 
her  ; " are  they  going  to  put  him  in  the  ministry  r " 

" Not  yet,  I think.  More  likely  he  has  been  speculating  on  the 
Bourse,  and  has  lost  money 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


295 


•1 M.  and  Mdme.  de  Villefort!**  cried  Baptistin.  They  en- 
tered. M.  de  Villefort,  notwithstanding  his  self-control,  was 
visibly  affected  ; and  when  Monte-Cristo  touched  his  hand,  he  felt 
it  tremble.  “ Certainly,  women  alone  know  how  to  dissimulate,’* 
said  Monte-Cristo  to  himself,  glancing  at  Mdme.  Danglars,  who 
was  smiling  on  the  proctor  and  embracing  his  wife.  After  a 
short  time,  the  count  saw  Bertuccio,  who,  until  then,  had  been 
occupied  on  the  other  side  of  the  house,  glide  into  an  adjoining 
room.  He  went  to  him.  “What  do  you  want,  M.  Bertuccio?  ” 
said  he. 

“ Your  excellency  has  not  stated  the  number  of  guests.** 

“ Count  for  yourself.’* 

I Bertuccio  glanced  through  the  door,  which  was  ajar.  The  count 
watched  him. 

“ Good  heavens  ! *9  he  exclaimed. 

“ What  is  the  matter  ? ’*  said  the  count 

•«  That  lady  in  a white  dress  and  so  many  diamonds— the  fair 
one.” 

“Mdme.  Danglars?** 

“ I do  not  know  her  name  ; but  it  is  she,  sir,  it  is  she  ! the  woman 
of  this  garden  ! — a mother — who  was  walking  while  she  waited 
for — — ” Bertuccio  stood  at  the  open  door,  with  his  eyes  starting 
and  his  hair  on  end. 

“ Waiting  for  whom  ? **  Bertuccio,  without  answering,  pointed 
to  Villefort  with  something  of  the  gesture  Macbeth  uses  to  point 
out  Banquo.  “Oh,  oh!”  he  at  length  muttered,  “ do  you  see 
him  ? ” 

“Him! — M.  de  Villefort,  the  Attorney  General ? Certainly  I 
see  him.” 

“ Then  I did  not  kill  him  ! *’ 

“No;  you  see  plainly  he  is  not  dead.  Instead  of  striking  be- 
tween the  sixth  and  seventh  left  rib,  as  your  countrymen  do,  you 
must  have  struck  higher  or  lower  ; and  life  is  very  tenacious  in 
these  lawyers,  or  rather  there  is  no  truth  in  anything  you  have 
told  me — it  was  a flight  of  the  imagination,  a dream  of  your 
fancy.  You  went  to  sleep  full  of  thoughts  of  vengeance  ; they 
weighed  heavily  upon  your  stomach  ; you  had  the  nightmare — 
that’s  all.  Come,  calm  yourself,  and  reckon:  the Villeforts,  two  ; 
the  Danglars,  four  ; the  Chateau-Renaud,  Debray,  Morrel,  seven  ; 
Major  Cavalcanti,  eight.  ’* 

“ Eight ! ” repeated  Bertuccio. 

“ Stop  ! You  are  in  a shocking  hurry  to  be  off — you  forget  one 
of  my  guests.  Lean  a little  to  the  left.  Stay  ! look  at  M.  Andrea 
Cavalcanti,  that  young  man  in  a black  coat,  looking  at  Murillo’s 
Madonna  ; now  he  is  turning.”  This  time  Bertuccio  would  have 
uttered  an  exclamation,  had  not  a look  from  Monte-Cristo  si« 
lenced  him. 

“ Benedetto?  **  he  muttered  ; “ fatality ! M 


296  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


“ Half-past  six  o’clock  has  just  struck,  M.  Bertuccio,”  said  the 
count,  severely  ; “ I ordered  dinner  at  that  hour,  and  I do  not 
like  to  wait;”  and  he  returned  to  his  guests,  while  Bertuccio, 
leaning  against  the  wall,  succeeded  in  reaching  the  dining-room. 
Five  minutes  afterwards  the  doors  of  the  drawing-room  were 
thrown  open,  and  Bertuccio  appearing  said,  with  a violent  effort, 
“ The  dinner  is  served.” 

The  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  offered  his  arm  to  Madame  de  Vil- 
lefort.  “ M.  de  Villefort,”  he  said,  “ will  you  conduct  Barones? 
Danglars?  ” 

Villefort  complied,  and  they  passed  on  to  the  dining-room.  . 

It  was  evident  that  one  sentiment  pervaded  the  whole  of  the 
guests  on  entering  the  dining-room.  Each  one  asked  himself 
what  strange  influence  had  conducted  them  to  this  house  ; and  yet 
astonished,  even  uneasy  though  they  were,  they  still  felt  they 
would  not  like  to  be  absent.  Stimulated  by  an  invincible  curiosity, 
there  were  none  present,  even  including  Cavalcanti  and  his  son, 
notwithstanding  the  stiffness  of  the  one  and  the  carelessness  of  the 
other,  who  were  not  thoughtful,  on  finding  themselves  assembled 
at  the  house  of  this  incomprehensible  man. 

The  repast  was  sumptuous  ; Monte-Cristo  had  endeavored  com* 
pletely  to  overturn  Parisian  ideas,  and  to  feed  the  curiosity  as 
much  as  the  appetite  of  his  guests.  An  Oriental  feast  passed  in  re- 
view before  the  eyes  of  the  astonished  Parisians,  who  understood 
that  it  was  possible  to  expend  thousands  upon  a dinner  for  ten, 
but  only  on  the  condition  of  eating  pearls,  like  Cleopatra,  or 
drinking  potable  gold,  like  Lorenzo  de’  Medici.  Monte-Cristo 
noticed  the  general  astonishment,  and  began  laughing  and  joking 
about  it.  “Gentlemen,”  he  said,  “you  will  admit  that,  when 
arrived  at  a certain  degree  of  fortune,  the  superfluities  of  life  are 
all  that  can  be  desired  ; and  the  ladies  will  allow  that,  after  having 
risen  to  a certain  eminence  of  position,  the  ideal  alone  can  be 
more  exalted.  Now,  to  follow  out  this  reasoning,  what  is  the 
marvellous  ? — that  which  we  do  not  understand.  What  is  it  that  we 
really  desire? — that  which  we  cannot  obtain.  Now,  to  see  things 
which  I cannot  understand,  to  procure  impossibilities,  these  are 
the  study  of  my  life.  I gratify  my  wishes  by  two  means — my  will 
and  my  money. 

“ What  would  be  the  use  of  living  i8gq  years  after  Lucullus,  if 
we  can  do  no  better  than  he  could?  ” 

The  two  Cavalcanti  opened  their  eyes,  but  had  the  good  sense 
not  to  say  anything. 

“ AH  this  is  very  extraordinary,”  said  Chateau-Renaud  ; “still, 
what  I admire  the  most,  I confess,  is  the  marvellous  promptitude 
with  which  your  orders  axe  executed.  Is  it  not  true  that  you  only 
bought  this  house  five  or  six  days  ago? ” 

“ Certainly  not  longer.” 

“Well,  I am  sure  it  is  quite  transformed  since  last  week.  If  I 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


297 


remember  rightly,  it  had  another  entrance,  and  the  courtyard  was 
paved  and  empty  ; while  to-day  we  have  a splendid  lawn,  bor- 
dered by  trees  which  appear  to  be  a hundred  years  old.” 

“Why  not?  I am  fond  of  grass  and  shade,”  said  Monte- 
Cristo. 

“Yes,'*  said  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  “the  door  was  toward  the 
road  before ; and  on  the  day  of  my  miraculous  escape  you 
brought  me  into  the  house  from  the  road,  I remember.” 

“Yes,  madame,”  Monte-Cristo  ; “but  I preferred  having  an 
entrance  which  would  allow  me  to  see  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  over 
my  gate.” 

“ In  four  days!  ” said  Morrel  ; “it  is  extraordinary  ! ” 

“ Indeed,”  said  Chateau-Renaud,  “it  seems  quite  miraculous  to 
make  a new  house  out  of  an  old  one  ; for  it  was  very  old,  and  dull 
too.  I recollect  coming  for  my  mother  to  look  at  it  when  Saint- 

Meran  advertised  it  for  sale  two  or  three  years  ago.” “Saint- 

Meran  ! ” said  Mdme.  de  Villefort ; “ then  this  house  belonged  to 
Saint-Meran  before  you  bought  it ! ” 

“ It  appears  so,”  replied  Monte-Cristo. 

“ How  ? do  you  not  know  of  whom  you  purchased  it  ?'* 

“ No,  indeed  ; my  steward  transacts  all  this  business  for  me.” 

“ It  is  certainly  ten  years  since  the  house  had  been  occupied,” 
said  Chateau-Renaud,  “ and  it  was  quite  melancholy  to  look  at  it, 
with  the  blinds  closed,  the  doors  locked,  and  the  weeds  in  the 
court.  Really,  if  the  house  had  not  belonged  to  the  father-in-law 
of  the  Royal  Prosecutor,  one  might  have  thought  it  some  accursed 
place  where  a horrible  crime  had  been  committed.” 

Villefort,  who  had  hitherto  not  tasted  the  three  or  four  glasses  of 
rare  wine  before  him,  here  took  one,  and  drank  it  off. 

Monte-Cristo  allowed  a short  time  to  elapse,  and  then  said,  “ It  is 
singular,  baron,  but  the  same  idea  came  across  me  the  first  time  I 
entered  it ; it  looked  so  gloomy  I should  never  have  bought  it  if 
my  steward  had  not  acted  for  me.  Perhaps  the  fellow  had  been 
bribed  by  the  agent.” 

“It  is  probable,”  stammered  out  De  Villefort ;“  but,  believe 
me,  I have  nothing  to  do  with  this  corruption.  This  house  is  part 
of  the  marriage-portion  of  Valentine,  and  Saint-Meran  wished  to 
sell  it  ; for,  if  it  had  remained  another  year  or  two  uninhabited,  it 
would  have  fallen  to  ruin.  It  was  Morrel’s  turn  to  become  pale. 

“There  was,  above  all,  one  room,”  continued  Monte-Cristo, 
“ very  plain  in  appearance,  hung  with  red  damask,  which,  I know 
not  why,  appeared  to  me  quite  dramatic.” 

“ Why  so  ? ” said  Danglars  ; “ why  dramatic  ? ” 

“Can  we  account  for  instinct?”  said  Monte-Cristo.  “Are 
there  not  some  places  where  we  seem  to  breathe  sadness  ? — why, 
we  cannot  tell.  It  is  a chain  of  recollections — an  idea  which  carries 
you  back  to  other  times,  to  other  places— which,  very  likely,  have 
no  connection  with  the  present  time  and  place.  And  there  is  some- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR/STO> 


298 

thing  in  this  room  which  reminds  me  forcibly  of  Desdemona's, 
Stay,  since  we  have  finished  dinner,  J.  wui  snow  u 10  you,  and  then 
we  will  take  coffee  in  the  garden.  After  dinner,  the  play.”  Monte- 
Cristo  looked  inquiringly  at  his  guests.  Mdme.  de  Villefort  rose,  the 
host  did  the  same,  and  the  rest  followed  their  example.  Villefort 
and  Mdme.  Danglars  remained  for  a moment,  as  if  rooted  to  their 
seats  ; they  interrogated  each  other  with  cold  glazed  eyes. 

44  Did  you  hear?  ” said  Mdme.  Danglars. 

44  We  must  go,*’  replied  Villefort,  offering  his  arm. 

Every  one  else  was  already  scattered  in  different  parts  of  the 
house,  urged  by  curiosity  ; for  they  thought  the  visit  would  not  be 
limited  to  the  one  room,  and  that,  at  the  same  time,  they  would 
obtain  a view  of  the  rest  of  the  building,  of  which  Monte-Cristo 
had  created  a palace.  Each  one  went  out  by  the  open  doors. 
Monte-Cristo  waited  for  the  two  who  remained  ; tnen,  when 
they  had  passed,  he  closed  the  march  with  a smile,  which,  if  they 
could  have  understood  it,  would  have  alarmed  them  much  more 
than  a visit  to  the  room  they  were  about  to  enter.  They  therefore 
began  by  walking  through  the  apartments,  many  of  which  were 
fitted  up  in  the  Eastern  style,  with  cushions  and  divans  instead  of 
beds,  and  pipes  instead  of  furniture.  The  drawing-rooms  were 
decorated  with  the  rarest  pictures,  by  the  old  masters ; the 
boudoirs  hung  with  draperies  from  China,  of  fanciful  colors,  fan- 
tastic design,  and  wonderful  texture.  At  length  they  arrived  at 
the  famous  room.  There  was  nothing  particular  about  it,  except- 
ing that,  although  daylight  had  disappeared,  it  was  not  lighted, 
and  everything  in  it  remained  antique,  wh:!e  the  rest  of  the  rooms 
had  been  re-decorated.  These  two  causes  were  enough  to  give  it 
a gloomy  tinge. 

11  Oh  l 99  cried  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  “it  is  really  frightful." 

Mdme.  Danglars  tried  to  utter  a few  words,  but  was  not  heard. 
Many  observations  were  made,  the  result  of  which  was  the  unan- 
imous opinion  that  there  was  a sinister  appearance  in  the  room. 
44  Is  it  not  so?”  asked  Monte-Cristo.  “Look  at  that  large  clumsy 
bed,  hung  with  such  gloomy,  blood-colored  drapery  ! And  those 
two  crayon  portraits,  that  have  faded,  from  the  damp;  do  they 
not  seem  to  say,  with  their  pale  lips  and  staring  eyes,  • Oh,  we 
have  seen  ! * M 

Villefort  became  livid ; Mdme  Danglars  fell  into  a long  seat 
placed  near  the  chimney. 

44  Oh  ! ” said  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  smiling,  “ are  you  courageous 
enough  to  sit  down  upon  the  very  seat  perhaps  up@a  which  the 
crime  was  committed?  99 

Mdme.  Danglars  rose  suddenly. 

“And  then,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  opening  a door  concealed  by 
the  drapery.  44  Look  at  it,  and  tell  me  what  you  think  of  it.*' 

44  What  a wicked-looking,  crooked  staircase,”  said  Chateau* 
B^naud,  smiling. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


299 


u I do  not  know  whether  the  wine  of  Chios  produces  melancholy, 
but  certainly  everything  appears  to  me  black  in  this  house,”  said 
Debray. 

“Can  you  imagine,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  “some  Othello,  on  a 
stormy,  dark  night,  descending  these  stairs  step  by  step,  carrying 
a load,  which  he  wishes  to  hide  from  the  sight  of  man,  if  not  from 
God?”  Mdme.  Danglars  half  fainted  on  the  arm  of  Villefort, 
who  was  obliged  to  support  himself  against  the  wall. 

“ Ah,  Mdme.,  cried  Debray,  “ what  is  the  matter  with  you  ? how 
pale  you  look  ! ” 

“ What  is  the  matter  with  her  ? ” said  Mdme.  de  Villefort ; “ it 
is  very  simple  : M.  de  Monte-Cristo  is  relating  horrible  stories  to 
us,  doubtless  intending  to  frighten  us  to  death.” 

“ Yes,”  said  Villefort,  “ really,  count,  you  frighten  the  ladies.” 
“What  is  the  matter?  ” asked  Debray,  in  a whisper,  of  Mdme. 

Danglars. “ Nothing,”  she  replied,  with  a violent  effort.  “ I 

v/ant  air ! that  is  all.” “ Will  you  come  into  the  garden?  ” said 

Debray,  advancing  towards  the  back  staircase. 

“ No,  no  ! ” she  answered,  “ I would  rather  remain  here.” 

“ Are  you  really  frightened,  Mdme?  ” said^  Monte-Cristo. 

“Oh,  no,  sir,”  said  Mdme.  Danglars;  “but  you  suppose 
scenes  in  a manner  which  gives  them  the  appearance  of  reality.” 
“Ah,  yes  ! ” said  Monte-Cristo  smiling  ; “ it  is  all  a matter  of 
the  imagination.  Why  should  we  not  imagine  this  the  apartment 
of  an  honest  matron  ? And  this  bed  with  red  hangings,  a bed 
visited  by  the  goddess  Lucina  ? And  that  mysterious  staircase, 
the  passage  through  which,  not  to  disturb  their  sleep,  the  doctor 
and  nurse  pass,  or  even  the  father  carrying  the  sleeping  child?  ” 
Here  Mdme.  Danglars,  instead  of  being  calmed  by  the  soft  pic- 
ture, uttered  a groan  and  fainted. 

“ Mdme  Danglars  is  ill,”  said  Villefort ; “ it  would  be  better  to 
take  her  to  her  carriage.” 

“ Oh ! and  I have  forgotten  my  smelling-bottle  ! ” said  Monte- 
Cristo. 

“ I have  mine,”  said  Mdme.  de  Villefort : and  she  passed  over 
to  Monte-Cristo  a bottle  full  of  the  red  liquid  whose  good  proper- 
ties the  count  had  tested  on  Edward. 

“ Ah  ! ” said  Monte-Cristo,  taking  it  from  her  hand. 

“ Yes,”  she  said,  “ at  your  advice  I have  tried.” 

“ And  have  you  succeeded  ? ” 

“ I think  so.” 

Mdme.  Danglars  was  carried  into  the  adjoining  room  ; Monte- 
Cristo  dropped  a very  small  portion  of  the  red  liquid  upon  hef 
lips  ; she  returned  to  consciousness. 

“ Ah  ! ” she  cried,  “ what  a frightful  dream  ? ” 

Villefort  pressed  her  hand  to  let  her  know  it  was  not  a dream. 
Danglars  was  sought,  but,  little  interested  in  poetical  ideas,  he  had 
gone  into  the  garden,  and  was  talking  with  Major  Cavalcanti  on 


300 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


the  projected  railway  from  Leghorn  to  Florence.  Monte-Cristo 
seemed  in  despair.  He  took  the  arm  of  Mdme.  Danglars,  and 
conducted  her  into  the  garden,  where  they  found  Danglars  taking 
coffee  between  the  Cavalcanti.  44  Ready,  madame,”  he  said, 
44  did  I alarm  you  much?” 

44  Oh,  no,  sir,”  she  answered,  “but  you  know,  things  impress  us 
differently,  according  to  the  mood  of  our  minds.”  Villefoit  forced 
a laugh.  *•  And  then,  you  know,”  he  said,  44  an  idea,  a supposi- 
tion, is  sufficient.” “ Well,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  44  you  may  be- 

lieve me  if  yeu  like,  but  it  is  my  belief  that  a crime  has  been  com- 
mitted in  this  house.” 

44  Take  care!”  said  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  44  the  prosecutor  is 
he*e.” 

44  Ah ; replied  Monte-Cristo,  44  since  that  is  the  case,  I will  take 
advantage  of  his  presence  to  make  my  declaration.” 

44  Oh,  this  is  very  interesting,”  said  Debray;  44  if  there  really 
has  been  a crime,  we  will  investigate  it.” 

44  There  has  been  a crime  ! ” said  Monte-Cristo.  44  Come  this 
way,  gentlemen  ; come,  M.  Villefort,  for  a declaration  to  be  avail- 
able, should  be  made  before  the  competent  authorities.”  He  then 
took  Villefort’ s arm,  and,  at  the  same  time,  holding  that  of  Mdme. 
Danglars  under  his  own,  he  dragged  the  lawyer  to  the  tree,  where 
the  shade  was  thickest.  All  the  other  guests  followed.  44  Stay,’* 
said  Monte-Cristo,  44  here,  in  this  very  spot,”  (and  he  stamped  upon 
the  ground),  44  I had  the  earth  dug  up  and  fresh  mould  put  in,  to 
refresh  these  old  trees  ; well,  my  man,  digging,  found  a box,  or 
rather  the  iron-work  of  a box,  in  the  midst  of  which  was  the 
skeleton  of  a newly-born  infant.”  Monte-Cristo  felt  the  arm  of 
Mdme.  Danglars  stiffen,  while  that  of  Villefort  trembled.  44  A 
newly-born  infant!’*  repeated  Debray;  44  this  affair  becomes 
serious ! ” 

44  Who  said  it  was  a crime  ? ” asked  Villeforte,  with  a last  effort. 

44  How?  is  it  not  a crime  to  bury  a living  child  in  a garden?  ” 
cried  Monte-Cristo.  44  And  pray  what  do  you  call  such  an 
action  ? ” 

44  But  who  said  it  was  buried  alive  ? ” 

44  Why  bury  it  there  if  it  were  dead?  This  garden  has  never 
been  a cemetery.** 

44  What  is  done  to  infanticides  in  this  country?”  asked  Major 
Cavalcanti,  innocently. 

44  Oh,  their  heads  are  soon  cut  off,”  said  Danglars. 

44  Ah  ! indeed  ! ” said  Cavalcanti. 

44 1 think  so  : am  I not  right,  M.  de  Villefort?”  asked  Monte- 
Cristo. 

44  Yes,  count,”  replied  De  Villefort,  in  a voice  now  scarcely 
human. 

Monte-Cristo  saw  that  the  two  persons  for  whom  he  had  pre« 
pared  this  scheme  could  scarcely  bear  it,  so,  not  wishing  to  carry 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


301 


it  too  far,  he  said,  11  Come,  gentlemen,  some  coffee,  we  seem  to 
have  forgotten  it;”  and  he  conducted  the  guests  back  to  the 
table  on  the  lawn. 

The  lawyer  had  found  time  to  whisper  to  Mdme.  Danglars,  •*  I 
must  speak  to  you  to-morrow,  at  my  office,  or  in  the  courts,  if  you 
like,  that  is  the  surest  place.” 

• “ I will  go.” 

At  this  moment  Mdme.  d^  Villefort  approached.  u Thanks,  my 
dear  friend,”  said  Mdme.  Danglars,  trying  to  smile;  " it  is  over 
now,  and  I am  much  better.” 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

THE  BEGGAR. 

M.  de  Villelort  was  the  first  to  give  the  signal  of  departure. 
He  offered  a seat  in  his  landau  to  Mdme.  Danglars,  that  she  might 
be  under  the  care  of  his  wife.  Danglars,  more  and  more  de- 
lighted with  Major  Cavalcanti,  had  offered  him  a seat  in  his  car- 
riage. Andrea  Cavalcanti  found  his  tilbury  waiting  at  the  door  ; 
the  tiger  was  standing  on  tiptoes  to  hold  a large  iron-grey  horse. 
Andrea  had  spoken  very  little  during  dinner  ; he  was  an  intelli- 
gent lad,  and  he  feared  to  utter  some  absurdity  before  so  many 
grand  people,  amongst  whom  he  saw  with  dilating  eyes  the 
proctor.  Then  he  had  been  seized  upon  by  Danglars,  who, 
taking  a rapid  glance  at  the  stiff-necked  old  major  and  his  modest 
son,  and  taking  into  consideration  the  hospitality  of  the  comat, 
made  up  his  mind  that  he  was  in  the  society  of  some  nabob  come 
to  Paris  to  finish  the  worldly  education  of  his  only  son.  He  con- 
templated with  unspeakable  delight  the  large  diamond  which  shone 
on  the  major’s  little  finger ; for  the  major,  like  a prudent  man,  in 
case  of  any  accident  happening  to  his  bank-notes,  had  immedi- 
ately converted  them  into  valuables.  Then,  after  dinner,  on  the 
pretext  of  business,  he  questioned  the  father  and  son  upon  their 
mode  of  living;  and  the  father  and  son,  previously  informed  that 
it  was  tlirough  Danglars  the  one  was  to  receive  his  48,000  francs 
and  the  other  50,000  livres  annually,  they  were  so  full  of  affability, 
that  they  would  have  shaken  hands  even  with  the  bankers  serv- 
ants, so  much  did  their  gratitude  need  an  object  to  expend  itself 
upon.  Thus  it  was  with  much  politeness  that  he  heard  Cavalcanti 
pronounce  these  words,  “ To-morrow,  sir,  I shall  have  the  honor 
of  waiting  upon  you  on  business.” 

*'  And  I,  sir,”  said  Danglars,  “ shall  oe  most  happy  to  receive 
you.”  Upon  which  he  offered  to  take  Cavalcanti  in  his  carriage, 
if  it  would  not  be  depriving  him  of  the  company  of  his  son.  To 
this  Cavalcanti  replied,  by  saying,  that  for  some  time  past  his  son 


302 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


had  lived  independently  of  him  ; that  he  had  his  own  horses  3ffd 
carriages,  and  that  not  having  come  together,  it  would  not  be  diffi- 
cult for  them  to  leave  separately.  The  major  seated  himself, 
therefore,  by  the  side  of  Danglars,  more  and  more  charmed  with 
the  ideas  of  order  and  economy  which  ruled  this  man,  and  yet 
who,  being  able  to  allow  his  son  50,000  francs  a year,  might  be 
supposed  to  possess  a fortune  of  500,000  or  600,000  livres. 

As  for  Andrea,  he  began,  by  way  of  showing  off,  to  scold  his 
groom,  who,  instead  of  bringing  the  tilbury  to  the  steps  of  the 
house,  had  taken  it  to  the  outer  door,  thus  giving  him  the  trouble 
of  walking  thirty  steps  to  reach  it.  The  groom  heard  him  with 
humility,  took  the  bit  of  the  impatient  animal  with  his  left  hand, 
and  with  the  right  held  out  the  reins  to  Andrea,  who,  taking  them 
from  him,  rested  his  polished  boot  lightly  on  the  step.  At  that 
moment  a hand  touched  his  shoulder.  The  young  man  turned 
round,  thinking  that  Danglars  or  Monte-Cristo  had  forgotten 
something  they  wished  to  tell  him,  and  had  returned  just  as  they 
were  starting.  But  instead  of  either  of  these,  he  saw  nothing  but 
a strange  face,  sunburnt,  and  encircled  by  a beard,  with  eyes  brill- 
iant as  carbuncles,  and  a smile  upon  the  mouth  which  displayed 
a perfect  set  of  white  teeth,  pointed  and  sharp  as  the  wolfs  or 
jackal’s.  A red  handkerchief  encircled  his  grey  head  ; torn  and 
filthy  garments  covered  his  large  bony  limbs,  which  seemed  as 
though,  like  those  of  a skeleton,  they  would  rattle  as  he  walked, 
and  the  hand  with  which  he  leant  upon  the  young  man’s  shoulder, 
and  which  was  the  first  thing  Andrea  saw,  seemed  of  a gigantic 
size.  Did  the  young  man  recognize  that  face  by  the  light  of  the 
lantern  in  his  tilbury,  or  was  he  merely  struck  with  the  horrible 
appearance  of  his  interrogator  ? We  cannot  say  ; but  only  relate 
the  fact  that  he  shuddered  and  stepped  back  suddenly.  “What 
do  you  want  of  me  ? ” he  asked. 

“ Pardon  me,  my  friend,  if  I disturb  you,”  said  the  man  with 
the  red  handkerchief,  “but  I wish  you  to  spare  me  the  walk  back 
to  Paris.  I am  very  tired,  and  not  having  eaten  so  good  a dinner 
as  you,  I can  scarcely  support  myself.”  The  young  man  shud- 
dered at  this  gross  familiarity.  “Tell  me,”  he  said — “ tell  me 
what  you  want  ? ” 

“ Well,  then,  I want  you  to  take  me  up  in  your  fine  carriage, 
and  carry  me  back.”  Andrea  turned  pale,  but  said  nothing. 

“ Yes ! ” said  the  man,  thrusting  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  and 
looking  impudently  at  the  youth;  “I  have  taken  the  whim  into 
my  head  ; do  you  understand,  Master  Benedetto  ? ” 

At  this  name,  no  doubt,  the  young  man  reflected  a little,  for  he 
went  toward  his  groom,  saying, — “ This  man  is  right ; I did  indeed 
charge  him  with  a commission,  the  result  of  which  he  must  tell 
me  ; walk  to  the  barrier,  there  take  a cab,  that  you  may  not  be 
too  late.”  The  surprised  groom  retired. 

gs  Let  me  at  least  reach  a shady  spot,”  said  Andrea, 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  LRISTO . 


m 

**0b,  as  for  that,  I’ll  conduct  you  to  a splendid  spot/1  said  the 
man  with  the  handkerchief;  and,  taking  the  horse’s  bit,  he  led 
the  tilbury  to  a place  where  it  was  certainly  impossible  for  any  one 
So  witness  the  honor  that  Andrea  conferred  upon  him. 

4 Don't  think  I want  the  honor  of  riding  in  your  fine  carriage/’ 
said  he  ; 44  oh,  no,  it's  only  because  I am  tired,  and  also  because 
I have  a little  business  to  talk  over  with  you.” 

44  Come,  step  in,”  said  the  young  man.  It  was  a pity  this 
scene  had  not  occurred  in  daylight,  for  it  was  curious  to  see  this 
rascal  throwing  himself  heavily  down  on  the  cushion  beside  th® 
young  and  elegant  driver  of  the  tilbury.  Andrea  drove  past  the 
last  house  in  the  village  without  saying  a word  to  his  companion, 
vno  smiled  complacently,  as  though  well  pleased  to  find  himself 
traveling  in  so  comfortable  a vehicle.  Once  out  of  Auteuil, 
Andrea  looked  around,  in  order  to  assure  himself  that  he  could 
neither  be  seen  nor  heard  ; and  then,  stopping  the  horse  and  cross- 
ing his  arms  before  the  man,  he  asked, — 4 Now,  tell  me  why  you 

come  to  disturb  my  tranquility?” 44  Let  me  ask  you  why  you 

deceived  me  ? When  we  parted,  you  told  me  you  were  going  to 
travel  through  Peidmont  and  Tuscany;  but  instead  of  that,  you 
come  to  Paris.” 

44  How  does  that  annoy  you?” 

44  It  does  not;  on  the  contrary,  I think  it  will  answer  my  pur- 
oose.” 

44  So,”  said  Andrea,  44  you  are  speculating  upon  me  ?” 

44  What  fine  words  he  uses ! Well,  well,  don’t  be  angry,  my 
Loy ; you  know  well  enough  what  it  is  to  be  unfortunate ; and 
misfortunes  make  us  jealous.  I thought  you  were  earning  a living 
in  Tuscany  or  Piedmont  by  acting  as  light  porter  or  cicerone ; and 
i pitied  you  sincerely,  as  I would  a child  of  my  own.  You  know 
I always  did  call  you  my  boy ! ” 

44  Come,  come,  what  then?” 

44  Patience  ! patience  ! ” 

44 1 am  patient,  but  go  on.” 

44  All  at  once  I see  you  pass  through  the  barrier,  with  a groom, 
a tilbury,  and  fine  new  clothes.  You  must  have  discovered  a 
mine,  or  else  become  a stockbroker.” 

44  So  that,  as  you  acknowledge,  you  are  jealous?” 44  No,  I 

am  pleased — so  pleased  that  I wished  to  congratulate  you  ; but  as 
3 am  not  quite  properly  dressed,  I chose  my  opportunity,  that  I 
might  siot  compromise  you.” 

44  Yes,  and  a fine  opportunity  you  have  chosen  t ” exclaimed 
Andrea  ; 44  you  speak  to  me  before  my  servant.” 

44  How  can  I help  that,  my  boy?  I speak  to  you  when  I can 
catch  you  You  have  a quick  horse,  a light  tilbury,  you  are 
naturally  as  slippery  as  an  eel ; if  I had  missed  you  to-night,  I 
might  not  have  had  another  chance.” 

4 You  see,  I do  not  conceal  mysclt’1 


$04 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


“ You  are  lucky  ; I wish  I could  say  as  much : I do  conceit 
myself ; and  then  I was  afraid  you  would  not  recognize  me,  but 
you  did,”  added  Caderousse,  with  his  unpleasant  smile.  “ It  was 
very  polite  of  you.” 

“ Come,”  said  Andrea,  “what  do  you  want?” “You  do  not 

speak  affectionately  to  me,  Benedetto,  my  old  friend  ; that  is  not 
right;  take  care,  or  I may  become  troublesome.”  This  menace 
smothered  the  young  man’s  passion.  He  trotted  his  horse  on. 
“ You  should  not  speak  so  to  an  old  friend  like  me,  Caderousse, 
as  you  said  just  now  ; you  are  a native  of  Marseilles,  I am ” 

“ Do  you  know  then  now  what  you  are? ” 

“ No,  but  I was  brought  up  in  Corsica  ; you  are  old  and  obsti- 
nate, I am  young  and*  wilful.  Between  folks  like  us  threats  are 
out  of  place,  everything  should  be  amicably  arranged.  Is  it  my 
fault  if  Fortune,  which  has  frowned  on  you,  has  been  kind  to 
me  ? ” 

“Fortune  has  been  kind  to  you,  then?  Your  tilbury,  your 
groom,  your  clothes,  are  not  then  hired  ? Good,  so  much  the 
better,”  said  Caderousse,  his  eyes  sparkling  with  avarice. 

“ Oh ! you  knew  that  well  enough  before  speaking  to  me,”  said 
Andrea,  becoming  more  and  more  excited.  “ If  I had  been  wear- 
ing a handkerchief  like  yours  on  my  head,  rags  on  my  back,  and 
worn  out  shoes  on  my  feet,  you  would  not  have  hailed  me.” 

“ You  wrong  me,  my  boy  ; now  I have  found  you,  nothing  pre- 
vents my  being  as  well-dressed  as  any  one,  knowing,  as  I do,  the 
goodness  of  your  heart.  If  you  have  two  coats  you  will  give  me 
one  of  them.  I used  to  divide  my  soup  and  beans  with  you  when 
you  were  hungry.” 

“True,”  said  Andrea. 

“ How  did  you  came  to  be  dining  with  that  prince  whose  house 
you  have  just  left  ? ” 

“ He  is  not  a prince  ; simply  a count." 

“ A count,  and  a rich  one  too,  eh?  " 
r-  “ Yes  ; but  you  had  better  not  have  anything  to  say  to  him,  for 
he  is  not  a very  good-tempered  gentleman.” 

> “ Oh  ! be  satisfied  ! I have  no  design  upon  your  count,  and  you 

shall  have  him  all  to  yourself.  But,”  said  Caderousse,  again 
smiling  with  the  disagreeable  expression  he  had  before  assumed, 

“ you  must  pay  for  it — you  understand  ? ” “ Well,  what  do  you 

want?  ” 

“ I think  that  with  a hundred — a hundred  and  fifty  francs  a 
month  I should  be  quite  happy.” 

“Here  are  two  hundred,”  said  Andrea;  and  he  placed  ten 
gold  pieces  in  the  hand  of  Caderousse. 

“ Good  ! ” said  Caderousse. 

“ Apply  to  the  steward  on  the  first  day  of  every  month,  and  you 
will  receive  the  same  sum.” 

“ Come,  come  ; I always  said  you  were  a fine  fellow,  and  it  is  a 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


305 


blessing  when  good  fortune  happens  to  such  as  you.  But  tell  me 
all  about  it?”  Bf 

«'  The  fact  is,  I have  found  my  father. 

“ What ! a real  father  ? ” 

" Yes,  so  long  as  he  pays  me ” 

11  You’ll  honor  and  believe  him— that’s  right.  What  is  his 
name?” 

“ Major  Cavalcanti  ? ” 

“And  who  found  this  father  for  you  ? ” 

••  The  Count  of  Monte-Cristo.” 

The  man  whose  house  you  have  just  left?  0 
" Yes.”  . 

“I  wish  you  would  try  and  find  me  a situation  with  him  as 
grandfather,  since  he  holds  the  money-chest ! ” 

««  Well,  I will  mention  you  to  him.  Meanwhile,  since  you  inter- 
est  yourself  in  my  affairs,  I think  it  is  now  my  turn  to  ask  you 
some  questions.” 

“Ah,  true!  Well;  I shall  rent  a room  in  some  respectable 
house,  wear  a decent  coat,  shave  every  day,  and  go  and  read 
the  papers  in  a saloon.  Then,  in  the  evening,  I will  go  to  the 
theatre  ; I shall  look  like  some  retired  baker.  This  is  my  wish.” 

“ Come,  if  you  will  only  put  this  scheme  into  execution,  and  be 
steady,  nothing  could  be  better.” 

“ Do  you  think  so  ? And  you — what  will  you  become  ? A peer 
of  France  ? ” 

“Ah!”  said  Andrea,  “who  knows?” 

“ Major  Cavalcanti  is  already  one,  perhaps  ; but  then,  heredi- 
tary rank  is  abolished.” 

“ No  politics,  Caderousse  ! And  now  that  you  have  all  you 
want,  and  that  we  understand  each  other,  jump  down  from  the  til- 
bury and  disappear." 

“ Not  at  all,  my  good  friend.” 

“ How  ! not  at  all?  ” 

“Why,  I should  certainly  be  arrested  at  the  barriers!  Then, 
to  justify  myself,  I should  say  that  you  gave  me  the  money  ; this 
would  cause  inquiries ; it  would  be  found  that  I left  Toulon 
without  giving  due  notice,  and  I should  then  be  reconducted  to 
the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean.  Then  I should  become  simply 
No.  106,  and  good-bye  to  my  dream  of  resembling  the  retired 
baker ! No,  no,  say  boy  ; I prefer  remaining  honorably  in  the 
capital.”  Andrea  scowled.  Certainly,  the  reputed  son  of  Major 
Cavalcanti  was  a hasty  fellow.  He  drew  up  for  a minute,  threw  a 
rapid  glance  around  him  ; and,  after  doing  so,  his  hand  fell  in- 
stantly into  his  pocket,  where  it  began  playing  with  a pistol.  But, 
meanwhile,  Caderousse,  who  had  never  taken  his  eyes  off  his 
companion,  passed  his  hand  behind  his  back,  and  unclasped  a 
long  Spanish  knife,  which  he  always  carried  with  him,  to  be  ready 
TO  case  of  need.  The  two  friends,  as  we  see,  were  worthy  of  and 
20 


306  the  count  of  monte  cristo. 


understood  one  another.  Andrea’s  hand  left  his  pocket  inoffens* 
ively,  and  was  carried  up  to  the  red  moustachio,  which  it  played 
with  for  some  time.  “ Good  Caderousse,”  he  said,  “ how  happ^ 
you  will  be ! ” 

“ I will  do  my  best,”  said  the  innkeeper,  reclasping  his  knife. 

“Well,  then,  we  will  go  into  Paris.  But  how  will  you  pass 
through  the  barrier  without  exciting  suspicion?  It  seems  to  me 
that  you  are  in  more  danger  riding  than  on  foot.” 

“Wait,”  said  Caderousse,  “we  shall  see.”  He  then  took  the 
great-coat  with  the  large  collar,  which  the  groom  had  left  be- 
hind in  the  tilbury,  and  put  it  on  his  back  ; then  he  took  off 
Cavalcanti’s  hat,  which  he  placed  upon  his  own  head  ; and  fi- 
nally  assumed  the  careless  attitude  of  a servant  whose  master 
drives  himself. 

“ But,  tell  me,”  said  Andrea,  “ am  I to  remain  bareheaded  ? ” 

“ Pooh ! ” said  Caderousse  ; “it  is  so  windy  that  your  hat  can 
easily  appear  to  have  blown  off.” 

“ Come,  come  ; enough  of  this,”  said  Cavalcanti. 

“ What  are  you  waiting  for  ? ” said  Caderousse.  “ I hope  I am 
not  the  cause.” 

“ Hush!  ” exclaimed  Andrea.  They  passed  the  barrier  without 
accident.  At  the  first  cross  street  Andrea  stopped  his  horse,  and 
Caderousse  leaped  out. 

“ Well ! ” said  Andrea,  “ my  servant’s  coat  and  my  hat?” 

“Ah!  ” said  Caderousse,  “you  would  not  like  me  to  risk  tak- 
ing  cold?  ” 

“ But  what  am  I to  do?  ” 

“ You  ! oh,  you  are  young,  whilst  I am  beginning  to  get  old. 
We  shall  meet  again,  Benedetto  ; ” and  running  into  a court,  he 
disappeared.  “Alas!”  said  Andrea,  sighing,  “one  cannot  be 
completely  happy  in  this  world  l ” 


CHAPTER  XLfIL 

PLANS  OF  MARRIAGE# 

It  was  not  often  that  Danglars  looked  into  his  wife's  own  apart- 
ments, but  the  fancy  took  him.  He  waddled  in,  flopped  himself 
down  on  the  sofa  and  as  a pet  dog  resented  his  intrusion,  he  seized 
him  by  the  neck,  and  threw  him  to  the  other  side  of  the  room  up- 
on a couch.  The  animal  uttered  a yelp  during  the  transit,  but,  ar- 
rived at  its  destination,  it  crouched  behind  the  cushions,  and, 
stupefied  at  such  unusual  treatment,  remained  silent  and  motion- 
less. 

“Do  you  know,  sir,”  asked  the  baroness,  “that  you  are  im* 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 30 7 

proving?  Generally  you  are  only  rude,  but  to-night  you  are 
brutal.’* 

“It  is  because  I am  in  a worse  humor  than  usual,*’  replied 
Danglars.  Hermine  looked  at  the  banker  with  supreme  disdain. 
These  glances  frequently  exasperated  the  pride  of  Danglars,  but 
this  evening  he  took  no  notice  of  them. 

“And  what  have  I to  do  with  your  ill -humor  ? ” said  the  baron- 
ess, irritated  at  the  impassability  of  her  husband  ; “ do  these 
things  concern  me  ? Keep  your  ill-humor  at  home  in  your  chests  : 
or,  since  you  have  clerks  whom  you  pay,  vent  it  upon  them.” 

“ Not  so,”  replied  Danglars  ; “ your  advice  is  wrong,  so  I shall 
not  follow  it.  My  chests  are  my  Pactolus,  as,  I think,  M.  De- 
moustier  says,  and  I will  not  retard  its  course,  or  disturb  its  calm. 
My  clerks  are  honest  men,  who  earn  my  fortune,  whom  I pay 
much  below  their  deserts,  if  I may  value  them  according  to  what 
they  bring  in  ; therefore  I shall  not  get  into  a passion  with  them  ; 
those  with  whom  I will  be  in  a passion  are  those  who  eat  my  din- 
ners, mount  my  horses,  and  exhaust  my  fortune.” 

“ And  pray  who  are  the  persons  who  exhaust  your  fortune  ? Ex- 
plain yourself  more  clearly,  I beg,  sir.” 

“ Oh,  make  yourself  easy  ! — I am  not  speaking  riddles,  and  you 
will  soon  know  what  I mean.  The  people  who  exhaust  my  for- 
tune are  those  who  draw  out  700,000  francs  in  the  course  of  an 
hour.” 

“ I do  not  understand  you,  sir,”  said  the  baroness,  trying  to  dis- 
guise the  agitation  of  her  voice  and  the  flush  of  her  face.  “ You 
understand  me  perfectly,  on  the  contrary,”  said  Danglars  : “ but, 
if  you  will  persist,  I will  tell  you  that  I have  just  lost  700,000  francs 
upon  the  Spanish  loan.” 

“And  pray,”  asked  the  baroness,  “am  I responsible  for  this 
loss  ?” 

41  Why  not  ? ” 44  Is  it  my  fault  you  have  lost  700,000  francs?  ” 

44  Certainly  it  is  not  mine.” 44  Once  for  all,  sir,”  replied  the 

baroness,  sharply,  44 1 tell  you  I will  not  hear  cash  named  ; it  is  a 
style  of  language  I never  heard  in  the  house  of  my  parents  or  my 
first  husband.” 

44  Oh  ! I can  well  believe  that,  for  neither  of  them  was  worth  a 
penny.” 

44  The  better  reason  for  my  not  being  conversant  with  the  slang 
of  the  bank,  which  is  here  dinning  in  my  ears  from  morning  to 
night  ; that  noise  of  crowns  jingling,  which  are  constantly  being 
counted  and  re-counted,  is  odious  to  me.  I only  know  one  thing 
I dislike  more,  which  is  the  sound  of  your  voice.” 

44  Really!”  said  Danglars.  44  Well,  this  surprises  me,  for  I 
thought  you  took  the  liveliest  interest  in  my  affairs  ! Last  Febru- 
ary you  were  the  first  who  told  me  of  the  Haytian  funds.  You 
had  dreamt  that  a ship  had  entered  the  harbor  at  Havre,  and 
brought  news  that  a payment  France  had  looked  upon  as  lost  was 


308 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


going  to  be  made.  I know  how  clear-sighted  your  dreams  are  ' 1 
therefore  purchased  immediately  as  many  shares  as  I could  of  the 
Haytian  debt,  and  I gained  400,000  francs  by  it,  of  which  100,000 
have  been  honestly  paid  to  you.  You  spent  it  as  you  pleased,  that 
was  your  business.  In  March  there  was  a question  about  a grant 
to  a railway.  Three  companies  presented  themselves,  each  offer- 
ing equal  securities.  You  told  me  that  your  instinct, — and  al- 
though you  pretend  to  know  nothing  about  speculations,  I think, 
on  the  contrary,  that  your  comprehension  is  very  clear  upon  cer- 
tain affairs, — well,  you  told  me  that  your  instinct  led  you  to  be-* 
lieve  the  grant  would  be  given  to  the  company  called  the  South-* 
ern.  I bought  two-thirds  of  the  shares  of  that  company  ; as  you 
had  foreseen,  the  shares  became  of  triple  value,  and  I picked  up  a 
million,  from  which  250,000  francs  were  paid  to  you  for  pin-money. 
How  have  you  spent  this  250,000  francs? — it  is  no  business  of 
mine.” 

When  are  you  coming  to  the  point?”  cried  the  baroness, 
shivering  with  anger  and  impatience..  44  Patience,  madame,  I am 
coming  to  it.” 

41  That’s  fortunate  ! ” 

44  In  April  you  went  to  dine  at  the  minister’s.  You  heard  a 
private  conversation  respecting  the  affairs  of  Spain — on  the  ex- 
pulsion of  Don  Carlos.  I bought  some  Spanish  shares.  The  ex- 
pulsion took  place  and  T pocketed  600,000  francs  the  day  Charles 
V.  repassed  the  Bidassoa.  Of  these  600,000  francs  you  took  50,- 

000  crowns.  They  were  yours,,  you  disposed  of  them  according 
to  your  fancy,  and  I asked  no  questions  ; but  it  is  not  the  less  true 
that  you  have  this  year  received  500,000  livres.” 

44  Well,  sir,  and  what  then  ? ” 

44  Ah,  yes,  it  was  just  after  this  that  you  spoiled  everything ! u 

44  Really,  your  manner  of  speaking -” 

44  It  expresses  my  meaning,  and  that  is  all  I want.  Well,  three 
days  after  that  you  talked  politics  with  M.  Debray,  and  you  fan- 
cied from  his  words  that  Don  Carlos  had  returned  to  Spain.  Well, 

1 sold  my  shares,  the  news  was  spread,  and  I no  longer  sold  but 
gave  them  ; next  day  I find  the  telegraph  had  been  tampered  with, 
madame  ! as  if  in  order  to  spite  me  ! for  by  this  accident  or  inten- 
tion, I lost  700,000  on  the  false  news.” 

44  Well?  ” 

44  Well ! since  I gave  you  a fourth  of  my  gains,  I think  you  owe 
me  a fourth  of  my  losses  : the  fourth  of  700,000  francs  is  175,000 
francs.” 

44  What  you  say  is  absurd,  and  I cannot  see  why  M.  Debray’s 
name  is  mixed  up  in  this  affair.” 

44  Because  if  you  do  not  possess  the  175,000  francs  I reclaim, 
you  must  have  lent  them  to  your  friends,  and  M.  Debray  is  one  of 
your  friends.” 

M For  sname  i ” exclaimed  the  baroness. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


309 


" Oh!  let  us  have  no  gestures,  no  screams,  no  modern  drama, 
we  you  will  oblige  me  to  tell  you  that  I see  Debray  leave  here, 
pocketing  nearly  the  whole  of  the  500,000  livres  you  have  handed 
over  to  him  this  year  ; while  he  smiles  to  himself,  saying,  that  he 
has  found  that  which  the  most  skilful  players  have  never  discov- 
ered  that  is,  a game,  where  he  wins  without  playing,  and  is  no 

loser  when  he  loses.”  The  baroness  became  enraged.  “ Wretch  ! ” 
she  cried,  “ will  you  dare  to  tell  me  you  did  not  know  what  you 
now  reproach  me  with  ? ” 

“I  do  not  say  that  I did  know  it,  and  I do  not  say  that  I did 
not  know  it.  I have  never  interfered  in  your  affairs,  except- 
ing for  your  good  ; treat  me  in  the  same  way.  You  say  you 
have  nothing  to  do  with  my  cash-box/  Be  it  so.  Do  as  you  like 
with  your  own,  but  do  not  fill  or  empty  mine.  Besides,  how  do  I 
know  that  this  was  not  a political  trick  ; that  the  minister,  enraged 
at  seeing  me  in  the  opposition,  and  jealous  of  the  popular  sympathy 
I excite,  has  not  concerted  with  M.  Debray  to  ruin  me  ? Who  ever 
heard  of  such  an  occurrence  as  this? — A false  telegraphic  despatch 

it  is  almost  impossible  for  signals  to  have  been  made  different  to 

those  of  the  two  last  telegrams.  It  was  done  on  purpose  for  me, 

I am  sure  of  it.” 

• • Sir,”  said  the  baroness,  humbly,  " are  you  not  aware  that  the 
man  employed  there  was  dismissed,  that  they  talked  of  prosecut- 
ing him,  that  orders  were  issued  to  arrest  him,  and  that  this 
order  would  have  been  put  into  execution  if  he  had  not  escaped 
their  researches  by  a flight  which  proves  either  his  madness  or  his 
guilt?  It  was  a mistake.” 

“ Yes,  which  made  fools  laugh,  which  caused  the  minister  to 
have  a sleepless  night,  and  his  secretaries  to  stain  several  sheets  of 
paper,  but  which  has  cost  me  700,000  francs.” 

••  But,  sir,”  said  Hermine,  suddenly,  “ if  all  this  is,  as  you  say, 
caused  by  M.  Debray,  why,  instead  of  going  direct  to  him,  do 
you  come  and  tell  me  of  it  ? Why  to  accuse  the  man  do  you  ad- 
dress the  woman  ? ’ * 

“ Do  I know  M.  Debray? — do  I wish  to  know  him  ? — do  I wish 
to  know  that  he  gives  advice? — do  I wish  to  follow  it? — do  I 
speculate  ? No  ; you  do  all  this,  not  I.” 

“ Still  it  seems  to  me  that,  as  you  profit  by  it ” 

Danglars  shrugged  his  shoulders.  “ Foolish  creature,”  he  ex- 
claimed. “ Women  fancy  they  have  talent  because  they  have 
managed  two  or  three  intrigues  without  being  the  talk  of  Paris  ! 
But  know  that  I see,  and  always  have  seen,  during  the  last  sixteen 
years.  What  has  been  the  result  ? — that,  thanks  to  my  pretended 
igorance,  there  are  none  of  your  friends,  from  Villefort  to  Debray, 
who  has  not  trembled  before  me,  the  master  of  the  house, — the 
only  title  I desire  with  respect  to  you.  I will  allow  you  to  make 
me  hateful  ; but  I will  prevent  your  rendering  me  ridiculous,  and, 
above  all,  I forbid  you  to  ruin  me.” 


3io 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


The  baroness  bad  been  \olerably  composed  until  the  name  of 
Villefort  had  been  pronounced  ; but  then  she  became  pale7  and, 
rising,  as  if  touched  by  a spring,  she  stretched  out  her  hands  as 
though  conjuring  an  apparition  ; she  then  took  two  or  three  steps 
toward  her  husband,  as  though  to  tear  the  secret  from  him,  of 
which  he  was  ignorant,  or  which  he  withheld  from  some  odious 
calculation,  as  all  his  calculations  were.  “ Villefort !—  What  do 
you  mean  ? ” 

“I  mean  that  Nargonne,  your  first  husband,  being  neither  a 
philosopher  nor  a banker,  or  perhaps  being  both,  and  seeing  there 
was  nothing  to  be  got  out  of  a lawyer,  died  of  grief  or  anger  at 
finding,  after  an  absence,of  nine  months,  that  you  had  been  in  a 
delicate  state,  six,  I am  brutal, — I not  only  allow  it,  but  boast 
of  it  ; it  is  one  of  the  reasons  of  my  success  in  commercial  busi- 
ness. Why  did  he  kill  himself  instead  of  you  ? Because  he  had 
no  cash  to  save.  My  life  belongs  to  my  cash.  M,  Debray  has 
made  me  lose  700,000  francs  ; let  him  bear  his  share  of  the  loss, 
and  we  will  go  on  as  before  ; if  not,  let  him  become  bankrupt  for  the 
250,000  livres,  and  do  as  all  bankrupts  do — disappear.  He  is  a 
charming  fellow,  I allow,  when  his  news  is  correct ; but  when  it 
is  not,  there  are  fifty  others  in  fhe  world  who  would  do  better 
than  him.** 

Madame  Danglars  was  rooted  to  the  spot  ; she  made  a violent 
effort  to  reply  to  this  last  attack  ; but  she  fell  upon  a chair,  think- 
ing of  Villefort,  of  the  dinner  scene,  of  the  strange  series  of  mis- 
fortunes which  had  taken  place  in  her  house  during  the  last  few 
days,  and  changed  the  usual  calm  of  her  establishment  to  a scene 
of  scandalous  debate. 

The  day  following  this  scene,  at  the  hour  the  banker  usually 
chose  to  pay  a visit  to  Mdme.  Danglars,  on  his  way  to  his  office, 
his  coupe  did  not  appear  in  the  yard.  At  this  time,  that  is,  about 
half-past  twelve,  Mdme.  Danglars  ordered  her  carriage,  and  went 
out.  Danglars,  placed  behind  a curtain,  watched  the  departure 
he  had  been  waiting  for.  He  gave  orders  that  he  should  be  in- 
formed directly  Mdme.  Danglars  appeared  ;but  at  two  o’clock  she 
had  not  returned.  He  then  called  for  his  horses,  drove  to  the 
Chamber,  and  inscribed  his  name  to  speak  against  the  budget. 
From  twelve  to  two  o’clock  Danglars  had  remained  in  his  study, 
unsealing  his  despatches,  and  becoming  more  and  more  sad  every 
minute,  heaping  figure  upon  figure,  and  receiving,  among  other 
visits,  one  from  Major  Cavalcanti,  who,  as  stiff  and  as  exact  as 
ever,  presented  himself  precisely  at  the  hour  named  the  night  be- 
fore, to  terminate  his  business  with  the  banker.  On  leaving  the 
Chamber,  Danglars,  who  had  shown  violent  marks  of  agitation 
during  the  sitting,  and  been  more  bitter  than  ever  against  the 
ministry,  re-entered  his  carriage,  and  told  the  coachman  to  drive 
to  the  Avenue  Champs-Elysees. 

Monte-Cristo  was  at  home  ; onlv  he  was  engaged  with  some  one. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


3H 


and  begged  Danglars  to  wait  for  a moment  m the  drawing-room. 
While  the  banker  was  waiting,  the  door  opened,  and  a man 
dressed  as  a priest  entered,  who,  doubtless  more  familiar  with  the 
house  than  he  was,  instead  of  waiting,  merely  bowed,  and,  pass- 
ing on  to  the  further  apartments,  disappeared.  A minute  after 
the  door  by  which  the  priest  had  entered  re-opened,  and  Monte- 
Cristo  appeared.  “ Pardon  me/’  saitl  he,  “ my  dear  baron,  but 
one  of  my  friends,  the  Abbe  Busoni,  whom  you  perhaps  saw  pass 
by,  has  just  arrived  in  Paris  ; not  having  seen  him  for  a long  time, 
I^could  not  make  up  my  mind  to  leave  him  sooner,  so  I hope  this 
will  be  sufficient  reason  for  my  having  made  you  wait.” 

“Nay,”  said  Danglars,  “it  is  my  fault;  I have  chosen  my 
visit  at  a wrong  time,  and  will  retire.” 

“Not  at  all  ; on  the  contrary,  be  seated ; but  what  is  the  mat- 
ter with  you?  You  look  careworn  ; have  you  had  another  fall  at 

the  Bourse?  ” “ No  ; I am  safe  for  a few  days  at  least.  I am 

only  annoyed  about  a bankrupt  of  Trieste.” 

“ Really  ! Does  it  happen  to  be  Jacopo  Manfredi  ? ” 

“Exactly  so.  Imagine  a man  who  has  transacted  business 
with  me  for  I do  not  know  how  long,  to  the  amount  of  a million 
francs  during  the  year.  Never  a mistake  or  delay  : a fellow  who 
paid  like  a prince.  Well,  I was  a million  in  advance  with  him, 
and  now  my  fine  Manfredi  suspends  payment ! ” 

“This,  with  my  Spanish  blunder,  made  a pretty  end  to  the 

month.” “ Then  you  really  lost  by  that  affair  in  Spain  ? ” 

“ Yes  ; only  700,000  francs  ! — nothing  more  ! ” 

“ But  making  a million  and  a half  in  this  month ! six  more  such 
months  and  you  will  be  at  the  end  of  the  purse  ! ” 

“ Not  at  all,  count ! I am  embarked  on  nothing  but  sure  affairs 
now,”  replied  Danglars,  with  the  air  of  a mountebank  trumpeting 
his  own  praises  ; “ to  involve  me,  three  governments  must  crumble 
to  dust.” 

“ So  much  the  better,  I congratulate  you,  my  dear  M.  Dang- 
lars,” said  Monte-Cristo ; “ I see  I was  deceived,  and  that  you  be- 
long to  the  class  next  to  first-rate  fortunes.” 

“ I think  I may  aspire  to  that  honor,”  said  Danglars  with  a 
smile,  which  reminded  Monte-Cristo  of  one  of  those  sickly  moons 
which  bad  artists  are  so  fond  of  daubing  into  their  pictures  of 
rains;  “but,  while  we  are  speaking  of  business,”  he  added, 
pleased  to  find  an  opportunity  of  changing  the  subject,  “ tell  me 
what  I am  to  do  for  M.  Cavalcanti.” 

“Give  him  money,  if  he  is  recommended  to  you,  and  the 
recommendation  seems  good.” 

“ Excellent ! he  presented  himself  this  morning  with  a bond  of 
4.0,000  francs,  payable  at  sight,  on  you,  signed  by  Busoni,  and  re- 
turned by  you  to  me,  with  your  indorsement ; of  course,  I imme- 
diately counted  him  over  the  forty  bank-notes.” 

Monte-Cristo  nodded  his  head  in  token  of  assent.  “ But  that  is 


312 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO c 


not  all,”  continued  Danglars;  44  he  has  opened  an  account  with 
my  house  for  his  son.” 

44  May  I ask  how  much  he  allows  the  young  man  ? ” 

44  Five  thousand  francs  per  month/’ 

44  Sixty  thousand  francs  per  year.  I thought  I was  right  in  be- 
lieving that  Cavalcanti  to  be  a stingy  fellow.  How  can  a young 
man  live  upon  5,000  francs  a month  ? ” 

44  But  you  understand  that  if  the  young  man  should  want  a few 
thousand  more ” 

84  Do  not  advance  it ; the  father  will  never  repay  it ; you  do  not 
know  these  ultramontane  millionaires  ; they  are  regular  misers. 
And  by  whom  were  they  recommended  to  you  ? ” 

44  Oh,  by  the  house  of  Fenzi,  one  of  the  best  in  Florence.” 

“ I do  not  mean  to  say  you  will  lose,  but,  nevertheless,  mind  you 
hold  to  the  terms  of  the  agreement.” 

'•  Would  you  not  trust  the  Cavalcanti ! ” 

4t  I?  oh,  I would  advance  six  millions  on  his  signature.  I was 
only  speaking  in  reference  to  the  second-rate  fortunes  we  were 
mentioning  just  now.” 

44  And  with  all  this,  how  plain  he  is  ! I should  never  have  taken 
him  for  anything  more  than  a mere  major.” 

44  And  you  would  have  flattered  him,  for  certainly,  as  you  say, 
he  has  no  manners.  The  first  time  I saw  him  he  appeared  to  me 
like  an  old  lieutenant  grown  mouldy  under  the  epaulet.  But  all 
the  Italians  are  the  same  ; they  are  like  old  Jews  when  they  are 
not  glittering  in  Oriental  splendor.” 

44  The  young  man  is  better,”  said  Danglars.  44  Ah,  I believe 
noblemen  marry  amongst  themselves,  do  they  not  ? ” asked  Dang- 
lars, carelessly  ; 44  they  like  to  unite  their  fortunes.” 

44  It  is  usual,  certainly  ; but  Cavalcanti  is  an  original  who  does 
nothing  like  other  people.  I cannot  help  thinking  he  has  brought 
his  son  to  France  to  choose  a wife.” 

44  And  you  have  heard  his  fortune  mentioned  ? ” 44  Nothing 

else  was  talked  of ; only  some  said  he  was  worth  millions,  and 
others  that  he  did  not  possess  a sou.” 

44  And  what  is  your  opinion  ? ” 44  That  all  these  old  lieutenant- 

governors,  and  ancient  free-lances  for  the  Cavalcanti  have  com- 
manded armies  and  governed  provinces, — have  buried  their  mill* 
ions  in  nooks,  the  secret  of  which  they  have  only  transmitted  to 
their  eldest  sons,  who  have  done  the  same  from  generation  to 
generation,  and  the  proof  of  this  is  seen  in  their  yellow  and  dry 
appearance,  like  the  florins  of  the  Italian  republics,  which,  from 
being  constantly  gazed  upon,  have  become  reflected  in  them.” 

44  Certainly,”  said  Danglars,  44  and  this  is  further  supported  by 
the  fact  of  their  not  possessing  an  inch  of  land.” 

44  Very  little,  at  least ; I know  of  none  which  Cavalcanti  possesses, 
excepting  his  palace  in  Lucca.” 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


313 


“Ah?  he  has  a palace?  ' said  Danglars,  laughing  : “come, 
that  is  something.” 

««  Yes  ; and  more  than  that,  he  lets  it  to  the  Minister  of  Finances 
while  he  lives  in  a rented  house.  Oh ! as  I told  you  before,  I 
think  the  good  man  very  close  ! ” 

“ Come,  you  do  not  flatter  him.” 

“ I scarcely  know  him  ; I think  I have  seen  him  three  times  in 
my  life  ; all  I know  relating  to  him  is  through  Busoni  and  himself ; 
he  was  telling  me  this  morning  that,  tired  of  letting  his  property 
lie  dormant  in  Italy,  a dead  nation,  he  wished  to  find  a method, 
either  in  France  or  England,  of  multiplying  his  millions  ; but  re- 
member, that  though  I place  great  confidence  in  Busoni,  I am  not 
responsible  for  this.” 

“ Never  mind  ; accept  my  thanks  for  the  client  you  have  sent 
me  : it  is  a fine  name  to  inscribe  on  my  lips,  and  my  cashier  was 
quite  proud  of  it  when  I explained  to  him  who  the  Cavalcanti 
were.  By  the  way,  this  is  merely  a simple  question,  when  these 
kind  of  people  marry  their  sons,  must  they  give  them  any  for- 
tune ?” 

“ Oh,  that  depends  upon  circumstances.  I know  an  Italian 
prince,  rich  as  a gold  mine,  one  of  the  noblest  families  in  Tuscany, 
who,  when  his  sons  married  according  to  his  wish,  gave  them 
millions  ; and  when  they  married  against  his  consent,  mere  allowed 
them  thirty  crowns  a month.  Should  Andrea  marry  according  to 
his  father’s  views,  he  will,  perhaps,  give  him  one,  two,  or  three 
millions.  For  example,  supposing  it  were  the  daughter  of  a 
banker,  he  might  take  an  interest  in  the  house  of  the  father-in-law 
of  his  son  ; then  again,  if  he  disliked  his  choice,  the  major  takes 
the  key,  double-locks  his  coffer,  and  Master  Andrea  would  be 
obliged  to  live  like  the  younger  son  of  an  English  peer,  by  shuff- 
ling cards  or  rattling  dice.” 

“ Ah!  that  boy  will  find  out  some  Bavarian  or  Peruvian  prin- 
cess ; he  will  want  a crown  and  an  immense  fortune.” 

“No ; these  grand  lords  on  the  other  side  of  the  Alps  frequently 
marry  into  plain  families  ; like  Jupiter,  they  like  to  cross  the  race. 
But  do  you  wish  to  marry  Andrea,  my  dear  M.  Danglars,  that 
you  are  asking  so  many  questions  ? ” 

“ Faith  ! ” said  Danglars,  “it  would  not  be  a bad  speculation, 
I fancy,  and  you  know  I am  a speculator.” 

“ You  are  not  thinking  of  Mdlle.  Danglars,  I hope  ; you  would 
not  like  poor  Andrea  to  have  his  throat  cut  by  Albert  ? ” 

“Albert  ! ” repeated  Danglars,  shrugging  his  shoulders  ; “ ah, 
yes  ; he  would  care  very  little  about  it,  I think.” 

“ But  he  is  betrothed  to  your  daughter,  I believe,  whose  fortune 
will  be  great,  no  doubt,  especially  if  the  telegraph  should  not 
make  any  more  mistakes.  ” 

“ Oh  ! I do  not  mean  her  fortune  only  ; but  tell  me,  why  did 
you  not  invite  the  Morcerfs  to  your  dinner?  M 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


3*4 

11 1 did  so,  but  the  count  excused  himself  on  account  of  Mdme  , 
de  Morcerf  being  obliged  to  go  to  Dieppe  for  the  benefit  of  sea  air.*' 

14  Yes,  yes,”  said  Danglars,  laughing,  44  it  would  do  her  a great 
deal  of  good.” 

44  Why  so?” 

44  Because  it  is  the  air  she  always  breathed  in  her  youth.” 
Monte-Cristo  took  no  notice  of  this  ill-natured  remark. 

44  But  still,  if  Albert  be  not  so  rich  as  Mdlle.  Danglars,”  said 
the  count,  44  you  must  allow  that  he  has  a fine  name?  ” 

44  Look,  at  my  coat-of-arms,  it  is  worth  more  than  Morcerf ’s.” 

4‘ Why  so?” 

44  Because,  though  I am  not  a baron  by  birth,  my  real  name  is, 
at  least,  Danglars,  while  his  name  is  not  Morcerf.  I have  been 
made  a baron,  so  that  I actually  am  one  ; he  made  himself  a 
count,  so  that  he  is  not  one  at  all.” 

44  Impossible  ! ” 44  Listen,  my  dear  count ; Morcerf  has  been  my 
friend,  or  rather  my  acquaintance,  during  the  last  thirty  years. 
You  know  I have  made  the  most  of  my  arms,  though  I never  for- 
got my  origin.” 

44  A proof  of  great  humility  or  great  pride/’  said  Monte-Cristo. 
44  Weli,  when  I was  a clerk,  Morcerf  was  a mere  fisherman,  one 
Johnny  Newcomes,  Fernand  Mondego.  I have  bought  enough 
fish  of  him  to  know  his  name.”  - 

44  Then,  why  did  you  think  of  giving  your  daughter  to  him  ? ” 
44  Because  Fernand  and  Danglars,  being  about,  both  having  be- 
come noble,  both  rich,  are  both  equal  in  worth,  excepting  that 
there  have  been  things  mentioned  of  him  never  said  of  me.” 

44  Ah,  yes  ! what  you  tell  me  recalls  to  mind  something  about 
the  name  of  Mondego.  I have  heard  that  name  in  Greece.” 

44  In  conjunction  with  the  affairs  of  Ali  Pacha?” 

44  Exactly  so.” 44  This  is  the  mystery,”  said  Danglars,  44 1 

acknowledge  I would  have  given  anything  to  find  it  out.” 

44  Probably  you  have  some  correspondent  in  Greece?” 

44 1 should  think  so.” 

44  Well,  write  to  your  correspondent,  and  ask  him  what  part  was 
played  by  a Frenchman  named  Fernand  Mondego  in  the  catas- 
trophe of  Ali  Tobelen.” 

44  You  are  right,”  exclaimed  Danglars,  rising  quickly,  44 1 will 
write  to-day.” 

44  And  if  you  should  hear  of  anything  very  scandalous — ” 

44 1 will  communicate  it  to  you.” 

44  You  will  oblige  me.”  Danglars  rushed  out  of  the  room,  and 
made  but  one  leap  into  his  carriage. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1STO. 


315 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

THE  OFFICE  OF  THE  PROSECUTOR  GENERAL* 

Let  us  leave  the  banker  driving  his  horses  at  their  fullest  speed, 
and  follow  Mdme.  Danglars  in  her  morning  excursion  to  the 
Palace  of  Justice. 

There  was  a great  press  of  people  in  M.  de  Villefort’s  ante- 
chamber ; but  Mdme.  Danglars  had  no  occasion  even  to  pro- 
nounce her  name  ; the  instant  she  appeared  the  doorkeeper  con- 
ducted her  by  a private  passage  to  Villefort’s  office.  The  magis- 
trate was  seated  in  an  arm-chair,  writing,  with  his  back  toward 
the  door  ; he  heard  it  open,  and  the  door-keeper  pronounce  the 
words,  “Walk  in,  madame,”  and  then  re-close  it,  without  mov- 
ing ; but  no  sooner  had  the  man’s  footsteps  ceased,  then  he  started 
up,  drew  the  bolts,  closed  the  curtains,  and  examined  every  cor- 
ner of  the  room.  Then,  when  he  had  assured  himself  that  he 
could  neither  be  seen  nor  heard,  and  was  consequently  relieved  of 
doubts,  he  said, — “Thanks,  madame, — thanks  for  your  punc- 
tuality ; ” and  he  offered  a chair  to  Mdme.  Danglars,  which  she 
accepted,  for  her  heart  beat  so  violently  that  she  felt  nearly  suffo- 
cated. 

“ It  is  a long  time,  madame/ ’ said  the  proctor,  describing  a 
half-circle  with  his  chair,  so  as  to  place  himself  exactly  opposite  to 
Madame  Danglars, — “ since  I had  the  pleasure  of  speaking  alone 
with  you  ; and  I regret  that  we  have  only  now  met  to  enter  upon 
a painful  conversation.” 

“ Nevertheless,  sir,  you  see  I have  answered  your  first  appeal ; 
although  certainly,  the  conversation  must  be  much  more  painful 
for  me  than  for  you.”  Villefort  smiled  bitterly. 

“ Sir,”  said  Mdme.  Danglars,  “ you  can  feel  for  my  emotion, 
can  you  not  ? Spare  me  then,  I beseech  you.  When  I look  at 
this  room,  whence  so  many  guilty  creatures  have  departed  trem- 
bling and  ashamed — when  I look  at  that  chair  before  which  I now 
sit  trembling  and  ashamed,  oh  ! it  requires  all  my  reason  to  con- 
vince me  that  I am  not  a very  guilty  woman  and  you  a men- 
acing judge.” 

Villefort  dropped  his  head,  and  sighed.  “And  I,”  he  said, 
“ I feel  that  my  place  is  not  in  the  judge’s  seat,  but  on  the  pris- 
oner’s.” 

“ I think,  sir,  you  exaggerate  your  situation,”  said  Mdme. 
Danglars,  whose  beautiful  eyes  sparkled  for  a moment.  “The 


Jl6  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


paths  of  which  you  were  just  speaking  have  been  traced  by  all 
young  men  of  ardent  imaginations.  Besides  the  pleasure  there  is 
always  remorse,  from  the  indulgence  of  our  passions  ; and,  after 
all,  what  have  you  men  to  fear  from  all  this  ; the  world  excuses, 
and  notoriety  ennobles  you?  ” 

44  Madame,’*  replied  Villefort,  44  you  know  that  I am  no  hypo- 
crite, or,  at  least,  that  I never  deceive  without  a reason.  If  my 
brow  be  severe,  it  is  because  many  misfortunes  have  clouded  it ; 
if  my  heart  be  petrified,  it  is  that  it  might  sustain  the  blows  it  has 
received.  Women,  on  the  contrary,  are  rarely  tormented  with  re- 
morse ; for  the  decision  does  not  come  from  you ; your  misfor- 
tunes are  generally  imposed  upon  you,  and  your  faults  the  result 
of  other’s  crimes.” 

44  In  any  case,  sir,  you  will  allow,”  replied  Mdme.  Danglars, 
•4  that,  even  if  the  fault  were  alone  mine,  I last  night  received  a 
severe  punishment  for  it.” 

44  Poor  thing ! ” said  Villefort,  pressing  her  hand,  44  it  was  too 
severe  for  your  strength,  for  you  were  twice  overwhelmed,  and 
yet  collect  all  your  courage,  for  you  have  not  heard  all ! ” 

44  Ah  ! ” exclaimed  Mdme.  Danglars,  alarmed,  44  what  is  there 
more  to  hear  ? ” 

44  You  only  look  back  to  the  past ; and  it  is,  indeed,  bad  enough. 
Well,  picture  to  yourself  a future  more  gloomy  still — certainly 
frightful,  perhaps  sanguinary!”  The  baroness  knew  how  calm 
Villefort  naturally  was,  and  his  present  excitement  frightened  her 
so  much  that  she  opened  her  mouth  to  scream,  but  the  sound  died 
in  her  throat.  44  How  has  this  terrible  past  been  recalled?  ” cried 
Villefort. 

44  Alas ! ” said  Hermine,  44  doubtless  it  is  chance  ! Was  it  not 
by  chance  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  bought  this  house  ? Caused 
the  earth  to  be  dug  ? The  unfortunate  child  disinterred  under  the 
trees  ? That  poor  innocent  offspring  of  mine,  which  I never  even 
kissed,  but  for  whom  I wept  many,  many  tears.  Ah,  my  heart 
flew  to  the  count  when  he  mentioned  the  dear  spoil  found  beneath 
the  flowers.” 

44  Well,  no,  madame  ! — -this  is  the  terrible  news  I have  to  tell 
you,”  said  Villefort,  in  a hollow  voice — 44  no,  nothing  was  found 
beneath  the  flowers  ; there  was*no  child  disinterred — no  ! You 
must  not  weep,  no,  you  must  not  groan,  you  must  tremble  ! ” 

44  What  can  you  mean?  ” asked  Mdme.  Danglars,  shuddering. 

44 1 mean  that  Monte-Cristo,  digging  underneath  these  trees, 
found  neither  skeleton  nor  chest,  because  neither  of  them  was 
there ! ” 

44  Then  you  did  not  bury  the  poor  child  there,  sir  ? Why  did 
you  deceive  me  ? Where  did  you  place  it  ? tell  me — where  ? ” 

44  There!  But  listen  to  me!  You  recollect  that  sad  night, 
when  you  were  half  expiring  on  that  bed  in  the  red  damask  room, 
while  I,  scarcely  less  agitated  than  you,  awaited  your  delivery. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


in 

The  child  was  born,  was  given  to  me — without  movement,  with- 
out breath,  without  voice,  we  thought  it  dead.”  Mdme.  Dang- 
lars  moved  rapidly,  as  though  she  would  spring  from  her  chair  \ 
but  Villefort  stopped,  and  clasped  his  hands  as  if  to  implore  her 
attention.  “ We  thought  it  dead,”  he  repeated  ; 44  I placed  it  in 
the  chest,  which  was  to  take  the  place  of  a cofhn  ; I descended  to 
the  garden,  I dug  a hole,  and  then  flung  it  down  in  haste.  Scarcely 
had  I covered  it  with  mold,  when  the  arm  of  the  Corsican  was 
stretched  toward  me  ; I saw  a shadow  rise,  and,  at  the  same 
lime,  a flash  of  light.  I felt  pain  ; I wished  to  cry  out,  but  an  icy 
shiver  ran  through  my  veins  and  stifled  my  voice  ; I fell  lifeless, 
and  fancied  myself  killed.  Never  shall  I forget  your  sublime 
courage,  when,  having  returned  to  consciousness,  I dragged  my- 
self to  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  where,  expiring  yourself,  you  came  to 
meet  me.  We  were  obliged  to  keep  silent  upon  the  dreadful  ca- 
tastrophe. You  had  the  fortitude  to  regain  the  house,  assisted  by 
your  nurse.  A duel  was  the  pretext  for  my  wound.  Though  we 
scarcely  expected  it,  our  secret  remained  in  our  own  keeping 
alone.  I was  taken  to  Versailles  ; for  three  months  I struggled 
with  death  ; at  last,  as  I seemed  to  cling  to  life,  I was  ordered  to 
the  South.  Four  men  carried  me  from  Paris  to  Chalons,  walking 
six  leagues  a day.  Mdme.  de  Villefort  followed  the  litter  in  her 
carriage.  At  Marseilles,  my  recovery  lasted  six  months.  I never 
heard  you  mentioned,  and  I did  not  dare  inquire  for  you.  When 
I returned  to  Paris,  I learned  that,  widow  of  M.  de  Nargonne,  you 
had  married  M.  Danglars. 

44  What  had  been  the  subject  of  my  thoughts  ever  since  con- 
sciousness had  returned  to  me  ? Always  the  same — always  the 
child’s  corpse,  which,  every  night  in  my  dreams,  rising  from  the 
earth,  fixed  itself  above  the  grave  with  a menacing  look  and  ges- 
ture. I inquired  immediately  on  my  return  to  Paris  : the  house 
had  not  been  inhabited  since  we  left  it,  but  it  had  just  been  let  for 
nine  years.  I found  the  tenant.  I pretended  that  I disliked  the 
idea  of  a house  belonging  to  my  wife’s  father  and  mother  passing 
into  the  hands  of  strangers.  I had  money  with  me  ; I made  the 
tenant  sign  a cancelling  deed,  and  I galloped  to  Auteuil.  No  one 
had  entered  the  house  since  I had  left  it.  It  was  five  o’clock  in 
the  afternoon  ; I ascended  in  the  red  room,  and  waited  for  night. 
It  was  necessary,  before  everything  else,  and  at  all  risks,  that  I 
should  cause  all  traces  of  the  past  to  disappear — destroy  every 
material  vestige  : too  much  reality  would  always  remain  in  my 
recollection.  At  length,  one  by  one,  all  the  noises  in  the  neigh- 
boring country  ceased.  I understood  that  I had  nothing  to  fear, 
that  I should  neither  be  seen  nor  heard,  so  I decided  upon  de- 
scending to  the  garden. 

44  I recollected  that  I was  stabbeu  just  as  I was  trampling  the 
ground  to  fill  up  the  hole  ; while  doing  so,  I had  leaned  against  a 
tree  ; behind  me  was  an  artificial  rock,  intended  to  serve  as  a 


3 1 8 THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

resting-place  for  persons  walking  in  the  garden  ; in  falling,  mv 
hand,  relaxing  its  hold  of  the  tree,  felt  the  coldness  of  this  storn?. 
On  my  right  I saw  the  tree,  behind  me  the  rock.  I stood  in  t tie 
same  attitude,  and  threw  myself  down.  I rose,  and  again  began 
digging  and  enlarging  the  hole  ; still  I found  nothing,  nothing — 
the  chest  was  no  longer  there  ! ” 

44  Oh,”  cried  Mdme.  Danglars,  44  it  was  enough  to  drive  you 
mad ! ” 

44 1 hoped  for  a moment  that  it  might/*  said  Villefort ; 41  but 
that  happiness  was  denied  me.  However,  recovering  my  strength 
and  my  ideas,  4 Why/  said  I,  4 should  that  man  have  carried 
away  the  corpse  ? ’ ” 

44  But  you  said/’  replied  Mdme.  Danglars,  44  he  would  require  it 
as  a proof?  ” 

44  Ah,  no,  madame,  that  could  not  be.  Dead  bodies  are  not 
kept  a year  ; they  are  shown  to  a magistrate,  and  the  evidence  is 
taken.  Now,  nothing  of  the  kind  has  happened.” 

44  What  then  ? ” asked  Hermine,  trembling  violently. 

44  Something  more  terrible,  more  fatal,  more  alarming  for  us  f — - 
the  child  was,  perhaps,  alive,  and  the  assassin  may  have  saved  it ! ” 

Mdme.  Danglars  uttered  a piercing  cry,  and,  seizing  Villefort’s 
hands,  exclaimed,  4‘ My  child  was  alive!”  said  she;  44  you 
buried  my  child  alive,  sir!  You  were  not  certain  my  child  was 
dead,  and  you  buried  it.  Ah ” 

Mdme.  Danglars  had  arisen,  and  stood  before  the  proctor  whose 
hands  she  wrung  in  her  feeble  grasp.  44  You  understand,  then, 
that  if  that  were  so,”  said  he,  rising  in  his  turn,  and  approaching 
the  baroness,  to  speak  to  her  in  a lower  tone,  44  we  are  lost.  This 
child  lives,  and  some  one  knows  it  lives — some  one  is  in  posses- 
sion of  our  secret ; and  since  Monte-Cristo  speaks  before  us  of  a 
child  disinterred,  when  that  child  could  not  be  found,  it  is  he  who 
is  in  possession  of  our  secret.” 

44  Just  God,  avenging  God!  ” murmured  Mdme.  Danglars. 

Villefort’s  only  answer  was  a species  of  groan. 

44  But  the  child — the  child,  sir?  ’*  repeated  the  agitated  mother. 

44  That  corsican  had  put  it  in  the  foundling  hospital.  I learned 
that  the  same  night — the  20th  of  September — a child  had  been 
brought  there,  wrapped  in  part  of  a fine  linen  napkin,  purposely  torn 
in  half.  This  portion  of  the  napkin  was  marked  with  half  a bar, 
on’s  crown,  and  the  letter  H.” 

44  Truly,  truly,”  said  Mdme.  Danglars,  44  all  my  linen  is  marked 
thus  : Nargonne  was  a baronet,  and  my  name  is  Hermine.  Thank 
God  ! my  boy  was  not  then  dead.” 

44  Where  is  the  child  ? ” 

Villefort  shrugged  his  shoulders.  44  Do  I know?”  said  he; 
44  and  do  you  believe  that  if  I knew  I would  relate  to  you  all  its 
trials  and  all  its  adventures  as  would  a novelist?  Alas!  no.  I 
know  neh  A woman,  about  six  months  after*  came  to  elam  K 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRZSTO.  319 


with  the  other  half  of  the  napkin.  This  woman  gave  all  the  req* 
uisite  particulars,  and  it  was  intrusted  to  her.*’ 

“ But  you  should  have  inquired  for  the  woman  ; you  should 

have  traced  her.” “And  what  do  you  think  I did?  I feigned 

a criminal,  and  employed  all  the  most  acute  bloodhounds  and  skil- 
ful agents  in  search  of  her.  They  traced  her  to  Chalons,  and 
there  they  lost  her.5* 

“'They  lost  her  ? ” 

44  Yes,  for  ever.” 

14  But  now  I will  begin  with  more  perseverance  and  fury  than 
ov&r,  since  fear  urges  me,  not  my  conscience.” 

4J  But,”  replied  Mdme.  Danglars,  44  the  count  of  Monte-Cristo 
can  know  nothing,  or  he  would  not  seek  our  society  as  he  does.” 
44  Oh,  the  wickedness  of  man  is  very  great,”  said  Villefort, 
44  since  it  surpasses  the  goodness  of  God.  In  less  than  one  week 
from  this  time  I will  ascertain  who  this  Monte-Cristo  is,  whence  he 
comes,  where  he  goes,  and  why  he  speaks  in  our  presence  of  chil- 
dren which  have  been  disinterred  in  a garden.”  Villefort  pro- 
nounced these  words  with  an  accent  which  would  have  made  the 
count  shudder  had  he  heard  him.  Then  he  pressed  the  hand  the 
baroness  reluctantly  gave  him,  and  led  her  respectfully  back  to 
the  door.  Mdme.  Danglars  returned  in  another  hackney-coach  to 
to  the  passage,  on  the  other  end  of  which  she  found  her  carriage, 
and  her  coachman  sleeping  peacefully  on  his  box  while  waiting  for 
her. 

The  Royal  prosecutor  was  of  the  opinion  that  no  one  is  so  well 
served  as  the  man  who  acts  for  himself.  So  he  disguised  himself 
as  a detective  of  his  own  force  and  proceeded  with  inquiries  about 
the  mysterious  Sicillian  noble.  From  Boville  he  learnt  that  the 
count  was  well  known  to  a priest  named  Busoni  and  an  English 
nobleman  named  Lord  Wilmore.  The  latter  was  now  and  then  in 
Paris,  and  the  father  also  came  to  consult  books  in  the  royal 
library  as  he  was  an  Orientalist  of  repute. 

The  police-card  which  Villefort  carried  gained  him  an  audience 
of  Father  Busoni.  The  latter  freely  said  that  he  knew  the  count 
from  before  he  bought  a title  in  Italy  and  the  Islet  of  Monte- 
Cristo,  as  he  had  to  have  land  to  enjoy  the  count-ship.  He  was 
one  Zaccone,  son  of  a wealthy  Genoese  ship-builder.  He  knew* 
did  the  abbe,  that  the  count  was  supposed  to  have  him  as  his  con- 
fessor, but  it  was  not  so  : Monte-Cristo,  he  was  sorry  to  say,  was 
not  a Catholic.  Still  he  was  a philanthropist  on  whom  the  Pope 
looked  favorably — a sort  of  Quaker  who  did  not  wear  the  drab. 

Busoni  added  that  he  believed  Monte-Cristo  had  never  before 
been  in  Paris,  and  as  he  was  not  sure  of  coming  himself,  he  had 
entreated  him  to  look  after  the  Cavalcantis  or  at  least  the  father. 

He  concluded  by  saying  that  his  friend  had  bought  the  Auteuil 
house  to  turn  it  into  a lunatic  asylum  for  foreigners,  demented  in 
the  French  capital. 


320  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRiSTO . 


Lord  Wilmore  happened  also  to  be  in  town.  Villefort  found  him 
accessible  enough,  in  stylish  lodgings.  He  was  not  eager  to  air 
his  French  but  the  caller  knew  English.  He  was  more  communi- 
cative than  the  priest  for  he  had  no  good  feelings  toward  the 
Count  of  Monte-Cristo.  He  had  fought  against  him  in  India, 
during  wars  between  the  pretty  princess,  and  had  met  again  while 
the  Greeks  were  struggling  for  their  independence.  In  this  rebel- 
lion, Zaccone  discovered  a silver  mine  in  Thessaly  where  he  had 
disinterred  his  fortune,  a million  or  two  of  francs,  precariously  ob- 
tained and  continued. 

He  thought  that  the  count  was  fooling  away  his  time  and  money 
;:n  the  Auteuil  speculation  as  he  believed  that  he  would  strike 
mineral  springs  there. 

“I  hope  that  he  will  be  ruined  by  that  speculation  and  the 
others  he  is  entangled  with.” 

The  cause  of  this  feud  was  Monte-Cristo*  s seducing  a wife  of  a 
friend  of  his,  and  they  had  fought  three  duels.  He  showed  that 
the  wound  received  in  the  latest  encounter  was  not  yet  healed. 
He  was  now  practising  shooting  with  a fashionable  teacher  and 
hoped  to  kill  him  next  time. 

In  consequence  Villefort  returned  home  in  so  pleasant  a mood 
that  he  slept  that  night  soundly  for  the  first  time  since  the  dinner- 
party. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

THE  BALL. 

It  was  in  the  warmest  days  of  July,  when,  the  Saturday  arrived 
upon  which  the  ball  of  M.  de  Morcerf  was  to  take  place. 

At  the  time  the  Countess  de  Morcerf  returned  to  the  rooms, 
after  giving  her  orders,  many  guests  were  arriving,  more  attracted 
by  the  charming  hospitality  of  the  countess  than  by  the  distin- 
guished position  of  the  count ; for,  owing  to  a good  taste  of  Mer- 
cedes, one  was  sure  of  finding  some  arrangements  worthy  of  re- 
lating, or  even  copying  in  case  of  need.  Mdme.  Danglars  came, 
not  only  beautiful  in  person,  but  radiant  with  splendor;  she 
entered  by  one  door  at  the  same  time  Mercedes  appeared  at  the 
other.  The  countess  took  Albert  to  meet  Mdme.  Danglars.  He 
approached,  paid  her  some  well-merited  compliments  on  her  toilet, 
and  offered  his  arm  to  conduct  her  to  a seat.  Albert  looked  around 
him.  " You  are  looking  for  my  daughter?”  said  the  baroness, 
smiling. 

11 1 confess  it,**  replied  Albert.  “ Could  you  have  been  so  cruel 
as  not  to  bring  her?  M 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  C RIF  TO , 


%2l 


«•  Cairn  yourself.  She  has  met  Mdlle,  de  Villefort,  and  has  takes’ 
her  arm  ; see,  they  are  following  us,  both  in  white  dresses,  one 
with  a bouquet  of  camellias,  the  other  with  one  of  myosotis.  But 

tell  me ■ *— — “ Well,  what  do  you  wish  to  know  ? ” 

“ Will  not  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  be  here  to-night  ? ” 

“ Seventeen  ! ” replied  Albert.  “ What  do  you  mean  ? ” 

° I only  mean  that  the  count  seems  the  rage,”  replied  the  vis* 
count,  smiling,  “and  that  you  are  the  seventeenth  person  that 
a^ked  me  the  same  question.  The  count  is  in  fashion  ; I congratu- 
late him  upon  it.” 

41  And  have  you  replied  to  every  one  as  you  have  to  me?” 

Ah ! to  be  sure,  I have  not  answered  you  ; be  satisfied,  wa 
shill  have  this  * lion  ; ’ we  are  among  the  privileged  ones.” 

Albert  bowed  to  Mdme.  Danglars,  and  advanced  towards 
Mdme.  de  Villefort,  whose  lips  opened  as  he  approached.  44  I 
wager  anything,”  said  Albert,  interrupting  her,  “that  I know 
what  you  were  going  to  ask  me  if  the  count  of  Monte-Cristo  were 
arrived,  or  expected.” 

“ Not  at  all  It  is  not  of  him  that  I am  now  thinking.  I was 
going  to  ask  you  if  you  had  received  any  news  of  Franz?  ” 

“ He  was  leaving  for  home  at  the  same  time  as  his  letter.” 

“ Well,  now  then,  the  count  ? ” 

“The  count  will  come,  be  satisfied.” 

“ You  know  that  he  has  another  name  besides  Monte-Cristo? 
That  is  the  name  of  an  island,  and  he  has  a family  name.” 

“Well!  I’m  sure,”  said  Morcerf ; “ that  is  indeed  news  ! Am 

I allowed  to  repeat  it?” “ Yes,  but  cautiously  ; tell  one  thing 

at  a time,  and  do  not  say  I told  you.” 

“ Why  so  ? ”— — “ Because  it  is  a secret  just  discovered.” 

“ By  whom  ? ” “ The  police.” 

“ Then  the  news  originated ” 

*'  At  the  prefect’s  last  night.  Paris,  you  can  understand,  is 
astonished  at  the  sight  of  such  unusual  splendor,  and  the  police 

have  made  inquiries.” “ Good  ! nothing  more  is  wanting  than 

to  arrest  the  count  as  a vagabond,  on  the  pretext  of  his  being  too 
rich.” 

“Indeed,  this  would  doubtless  have  happened  if  his  credentials 

had  not  been  so  favorable.” “ Poor  count ! And  is  he  aware  of 

the  danger  he  has  been  in  ? ” 

“I  think  not.” “Then  it  will  be  but  charitable  to  infonfe 

him.  When  he  arrives,  I will  not  fail  to  do  so.” 

Just  then,  a handsome  young  man,  with  bright  eyes,  black  hair* 
^rd  glossy  moustache,  respectfully  bowed  to  Mdme.  de  Villefort 
Albert  extended  him  his  hand.  “ Madame,”  said  Albert,  “ allow 
tne  to  present  to  you  M.  Maximilian  Morrel,  captain  of  Spahis, 
One  of  our  best,  and,  above  all,  of  our  bravest  officers.” 

44  I have  already  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  this  gentleman  at 
Auteuil,  at  Monte-Cristo  House/*  replied  Mdme,  de  Villefort, 


THE  COUNT  OE  MONTE  CIVS  TO. 


\2t 

turning  away  with  marked  coldness  of  manner.  This  answes 
and,  above  all,  the  tone  in  which  it  was  uttered,  chilled  the  hean 
of  poor  Morrel.  But  a recompense  was  in  store  for  him  : turning 
round,  he  saw  near  the  door  a beautiful  fair  face,  whose  large  blue 
eyes  were,  without  any  marked  expression,  fixed  upon  him,  while 
the  bouquet  of  myosotis  was  gently  raised  to  her  lips.  The  Count 
of  Monte-Cristo  had  just  entered.  We  have  already  said  that 
there  was  something  in  the  count  which  attracted  universal  atten- 
tion wherever  he  appeared.  Yet  the  Parisian  world  is  so  strange, 
that  even  this  might  not  have  won  attention,  had  there  not  been, 
besides  this,  a mysterious  story  gilded  by  an  immense  fortune. 

Meanwhile  he  advanced  through  the  crowd  of  curious  glances 
and  exchange  of  salutations  towards  Mdme.  de  Morcerf,  who, 
standing  before  a mantlepiece  ornamented  with  flowers,  had  seen 
his  entrance  in  a looking-glass  placed  opposite  the  door,  and  was 
prepared  to  receive  him.  She  turned  towards  him  with  a serene 
smile  just  at  the  moment  he  was  bowing  to  her.  No  doubt  she 
fancied  the  count  would  speak  to  her,  while  on  his  side  the  count 
thought  she  was  about  to  address  him  ; but  both  remained  silent, 
and  after  a mere  bow,  Monte-Cristo  directed  his  steps  to  Albert, 
who  received  him  cordially.  Just  then  the  count  felt  his  arm 
jogged.  He  turned  round  ; it  was  Danglars. 

“ Ah  ! is  it  you,  baron?  ” said  he. 

“Why  do  you  call  me  baron ?”  said  Danglars;  “you  know 
that  I care  nothing  for  my  title.  I am  not  like  you,  viscount ; 
you  like  your  title,  do  you  not?” 

“Certainly,”  replied  Albert,  “seeing  thai  without  my  title  I 
should  be  nothing ; while  you,  sacrificing  the  baron,  would  still 
remain  the  millionaire.” 

“Which  seems  to  me  the  finest  title  under  the  royalty,”  re- 
plied Danglars. 

“ Unfortunately,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  “ one’s  title  to  a millionaire 
does  not  last  for  life,  like  that  of  baron,  peer  of  France 
or  academician  ; for  example,  the  millionaires  Frank  Poulmann, 
of  Frankfort,  just  become  bankrupts. 

“ Indeed  ! ” said  Danglars,  becoming  pale. 

“ Yes  ; I received  the  news  this  evening  by  a courier.  I had 
about  a million  in  their  hands,  but,  warned  in  time,  I withdrew 
it  a month  ago.” 

“ Ah,”  exclaimed  Danglars,  “ they  have  drawn  on  me  for  200,^ 
000  francs ! * ’ 

“Whew  ! ” said  Monte-Cristo,  “here  are  200,000 francs  gone 
after — — ” 

“ Hush!  do  not  mention  business ! "said  Danglars;  then,  approach" 
ing  Monte-Cristo,  he  added,  “especially  before  young  Caval- 
canti ; ” after  which  he  smiled,  and  turned  toward  the  young  man  in 
question.  Albert  had  left  the  count  to  speak  to  his  mother,  Dang- 
ers to  converse  with  young  Cavalcanti ; Monte-Cristo  was  for  a u 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


323 


instant  alone.  Meanwhile  the  heat  became  excessive.  The  foot- 
men were  hastening  through  the  rooms  with  waiters  loaded  with 
ices.  Monte-Cristo  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  forehead, 
but  drew  back  when  the  waiter  was  presented  to  him  ; he  took 
no  refreshment.  Mdme.  de  Morcerf  lost  not  sight  of  Monte- 
Cristo;  she  saw  that  he  took  nothing,  and  even  noticed  the 
movement  with  which  he  withdrew  from  it. 

“Albert/’  she  asked,  “did  you  notice  that?” “ What* 

mother?  ” 

“That  the  count  will  never  accept  an  invitation  to  dine  with 
us.” 

“ Yes ; but  then  he  breakfasted  with  me — indeed,  he  made  his 
first  appearance  in  the  world  on  that  occasion.” 

“But  your  house  is  not  M.  de  Morcerf’s,”  murmured  Mer- 
cedes ; “ and  since  he  has  been  here  I have  watched  him.” 

“ Well  ? ” “ Well,  he  has  taken  nothing  yet.” 

“The  count  is  very  temperate.”  Mercedes  smiled  sadly. 
“Approach  him,”  said  she,  “and  the  next  waiter  that  passes,  in- 
sist upon  his  taking  something.” 

“ It  is  a way  of  assuring  me  that  his  absence  was  intended.” 
A minute  afterwards  the  blinds  were  thrown  open,  and  through 
the  jessamine  and  clematis  that  overhung  the  window  might  be 
seen  the  garden  ornamented  with  lanterns,  and  the  supper  laid 
under  the  tent.  Dancers,  players,  talkers,  all  uttered  an  ex- 
clamation of  joy — every  one  inhaled  with  delight  the  breeze  that 
floated  in.  At  the  same  time,  Mercedes  reappeared,  paler  than 
before,  but  with  that  immovable  expression  of  countenance  which 
she  sometimes  wore.  She  went  straight  to  the  group  of  which 
her  husband  formed  the  centre.  “ Do  not  detain  these  gentle- 
men here,  count,”  she  said;  “they  would  prefer,  I should  think, 
to  breathe  in  the  garden  rather  than  suffocate  here,  since  they 

are  not  playing.” “Ah,”  said  a gallant  old  general,  “we 

will  not  go  alone  to  the  garden.” 

“Then,”  said  Mercedes,  “I  will  lead  the  way.”  Turning 
toward  Monte-Cristo,  she  added,  “ Count,  will  you  oblige  mewith 
your  arm?”  The  count  almost  staggered  at  these  simple  words  ; 
then  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  Mercedes.  It  was  but  the  glance  of  a 
moment,  but  it  seemed  to  the  countess  to  have  lasted  for  a 
century,  so  much  was  expressed  in  that  one  look.  He  offered 
his  arm  to  the  countess ; she  leaned  upon  it,  or  rather  just 
touched  it  with  her  little  hand,  and  they  together  descended  the 
9teps,  hedged  with  rhododendrons  and  camellias.  Behind  them,  by 
another  outlet,  twenty  persons  rushed  into  the  garden  with  loud 
exclamations  of  delight. 

Mdme.  de  Morcerf  entered  an  archway  of  trees  with  her  com- 
panion. 

The  count  looked  at  Mercedes  as  if  to  interrogate  her,  but 
she  continued  walking  in  silence ; on  Ills  side,  Monte-Cristo  also 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


324 

said  nothing.  They  reached  a building,  ornamented  with  mag- 
nificent fruits,  which  ripened  in  the  artificial  temperature.  The 
countess  left  the  arm  of  Monte-Cristo,  and  gathered  a bunch  of 
Muscatel  grapes.  “See,  count,”  she  said,  with  a smile,  so  sad  in. 
its  expression  that  one  could  almost  see  the  tears  on  her  eye- 
lids — “see,  our  French  grapes  are  not  to  be  compared,  I know, 
with  yours  of  Sicily  and  Cyprus,  but  you  will  make  allowance’ 
for  our  northern  sun.”  The  count  bowed,  but  stepped  back. 

Do  you  refuse?  ” said  Mercedes,  in  a tremulous  voice.  “ Pray 
excuse  me,  madam/9  replied  Monte-Cristo,  “but  I never  eat 
Muscatel  grapes.” 

“ Count,”  added  Mercedes,  with  a supplicating  glance,  “ there 
iis  a beatiful  Arabian  custom,  which  makes  eternal  friends  of 
those  who  have  together  eaten  bread  and  salt  beneath  the  same  * 
roof.’9 — — “ I know  it,  madame,”  replied  the  count ; “ but  we  are 
in  France,  and  not  in  Arabia;  and  in  France  eternal  friendships 
are  as  rare  as  the  custom  of  dividing  bread  and  salt  with  one 
another.” 

“But,”  said  the  countess,  breathlessly,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on 
Monte-Cristo,  whose  arm  she  convulsively  pressed  with  both 
hands,  “we  are  friends,  are  we  not?”  The  count  became  pale 
as  death,  the  blood  rushed  to  his  heart,  and  then  again  rising, 
dyed  his  cheeks  with  crimson  ; his  eyes  swam  like  those  of  a 
man  suddenly  dazzled.  “ Certainly,  we  are  friends,”  he  replied  ; 
“why  should  we  not  be  such?”  The  answer  was  so  little  like 
the  one  Mercedes  desired,  that  she  turned  away  to  give  vent  to 
a sigh,  which  sounded  more  like  a groan.  “Thank  you,”  she 
said.  And  they  recommenced  walking.  They  went  the  whole 
iength  of  the  garden  without  uttering  a word.  “ Sir,”  suddenly 
exclaimed  the  countess,  after  their  walk  had  continued  ten  min- 
utes in  silence,  “is  it  true  that  you  have  seen  so  much,  traveled 
so  far,  and  suffered  so  deeply  ? ” 

“ My  present  happiness  equals  my  past  misery,”  said  the  count. 

“ Are  you  not  married?  ” asked  the  countess.  “I,  married!  ” 
exclaimed  Monte-Cristo,  shuddering  ; “who  could  have  told  yon 
so?” 

“ No  one  told  me  you  were  ; but  you  have  frequently  been  seen 

at  the  Opera  with  a young  and  lovely  person.” “ She  is  a 

slave  whom  I bought  at  Constantinople,  madame,  the  daughter 
of  a prince.  I have  adopted  her  as  my  daughter,  having  no  one 
else  to  love  in  the  world.” 

“ How  can  you  exist  thus,  without  any  one  to  attach  you  t© 
life?” 

“ It  is  not  my  fault,  madame.  At  Malta,  I loved  a young  girl, 
was  on  the  point  of  marrying  her,  when  war  came  and  carried 
me  av/ay.  I thought  she  loved  me  well  enough  to  wait  for  me, 
and  even  to  remain  faithful  to  my  grave.  When  I returned  she 
was  married.  This  is  the  story  of  most  men  who  have  passed 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO 


325 


rwenty.  Perhaps  my  heart  was  weaker  than  those  of  the  generality 
and  I suffered  more  than  they  would  have  done  in  my  place  ; 
you  know  all.”  The  countess  stopped  for  a moment,  as  if  gasp- 
ing for  breath.  “Yes,”  she  said,  "and  you  have  still  preserved 
this  love  in  your  heart — one  can  only  love  once — and  have  you  for- 
given her  for  all  she  has  made  you  suffer  ? ” 

“ Yes,  I have  pardoned  her." 

“ But  only  her  ; do  you,  then,  still  hate  those  who  separated 
you?” 

“I  hate  them?  not  at  all;  why  should  I?”  The  countess 
placed  herself  before  Monte-Cristo,  still  holding  in  her  hand  a 
portion  of  the  grapes.  “Take  some,”  she  said.  “Madame,  I 
never  eat  Muscatel  grapes,”  replied  Monte-Cristo,  as  if  the  sub- 
ject had  not  been  mentioned  before.  The  countess  dashed  the 
grapes  into  the  nearest  thicket,  with  a gesture  of  despair.  “ In- 
dexible man!”  she  murmured.  Monte-Cristo  remained  as  un- 
moved as  if  the  reproach  had  not  been  addressed  to  him.  Albert 
at  this  moment  ran  in.  “ Oh,  mother!  ” he  exclaimed,  ,c  such  a 
misfortune  ! ” 

“ M.  de  Villefort  comes  to  fetch  his  wife  and  daughter.” 

“Madame  de  Saint-Meran  is  just  arrived  in  Paris,  bringing  the 
news  of  her  husband’s  death  which  took  place  on  the  first  stage 
after  he  left  Marseilles.  Madame  de  Villefort,  who  was  in  very 
good  spirits,  would  neither  believe  nor  think  of  the  misfortune ; 
but  Mdme.  Valentine,  at  the  first  words,  guessed  the  whole  truth, 
notwithstanding  all  the  precautions  of  her  father  ; the  blow  struck 
her  like  a thunderbolt,  and  she  fell  senseless.  He  was  her  grand- 
father on  the  mother’s  side.  He  was  coming  here  to  hasten  her 
marriage  with  Franz.” 

Ah,  indeed  ! ” 

She  took  two  or  three  steps  forward.  Monte-Cristo  watched 
her  with  an  air  so  thoughtful,  and  so  full  of  affectionate  admira- 
tion, that  she  returned,  taking  his  hand  ; at  the  same  time  she 
grasped  her  son’s,  and  joined  them  together. 

“ We  are  friends ; are  we  not?  ” she  asked. 

“ Oh,  madanie,  I do  not  presume  to  call  myself  your  friend, 
but  all  times  lam  your  most  respectful  servant.”  The  countess 
left  with  an  indescribable  pang  in  her  heart,  and  before  she  had 
taken  ten  steps  the  count  saw  her  raise  her  handkerchief  to  her 
eyes.  “ Do  not  my  mother  and  you  agree?”  asked  Albert,  as- 
tonished. 

“On  the  contrary,”  replied  the  count,  “did  you  not  hear  her 
declare  that  we  were  friends?”  They  re-entered  the  drawing* 
room,  which  Valentine  and  Madame  de  Villefort  had  justguitteds 
Monte-Cristo  departed  almost  .at  t he  same  time. 


326  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

JOY  AND  SORROW. 

A gloomy  scene  had  indeed  just  passed  at  Villefort’s.  After 
the  ladies  had  departed  for  the  ball,  the  functionary  had,  as  usual, 
shut  himself  up  in  his  study,  with  a heap  of  papers  calculated  to 
alarm  any  one  else,  but  which  generally  scarcely  satisfied  his 
inordinate  desires.  But  this  time  the  papers  were  a mere  matter 
of  form.  Villefort  had  secluded  himself,  to  study  notes,  precious 
documents,  amongst  which  he  had  carefully  arranged,  in  cipher 
only  known  to  himself,  the  names  of  all  those  become  his  ene- 
mies. Their  number  was  formidable,  now  that  he  had  begun  to 
fear,  and  yet  these  names,  powerful  though  they  were,  had  often 
caused  him  to  smile  with  the  same  kind  of  satisfaction  ex- 
perienced by  a traveler  who,  from  the  summit  of  a mountain, 
beholds  at  his  feet  the  sharp  peaks,  the  almost  impassable  paths, 
and  the  ridges  over  which  he  has  so  perilously  climbed.  When 
he  had  run  over  all  these  names  in  his  memory,  again  read  and 
studied  them,  commenting  meanwhile  upon  his  lists,  he  shook  his 
head. 

“No!”  he  murmured,  “none  of  my  enemies  would  have 
waited  so  patiently  and  laboriously  for  so  long  a space  of  time, 
that  they  might  now  come  and  crush  me  with  this  secret.  Some® 
times,  as  Hamlet  says — 

“ Deeds  will  rise, 

Tho’  all  the  earth  o’erwhelm  them,  to  men’s  eyes  ; ’* 

but,  like  a phosphoric  light,  they  rise  but  to  mislead.  The  story 
has  been  told  by  the  Corsican  to  some  priest,  who,  in  his  turn, 
has  also  repeated  it.  M.  de  Monte-Cristo  may  have  heard  it,  and 
to  enlighten  himself — but  why  should  he  wish  to  enlighten  himself 
upon  the  subject?”  asked  Villefort,  after  a moment’s  reflection, 
**  what  interest  can  this  Monte-Cristo,  or  Zaccone,  son  of  a ship- 
owner of  Malta,  discoverer  of  a mine  in  Thessaly,  now  visiting 
Paris  for  the  first  time — take  in  discovering  a gloomy,  mysterious, 
and  useless  fact  like  this  ? However,  amidst  all  the  incoherent  de- 
tails given  to  me  by  Abbe  Busoni  and  by  Lord  Wilmore,  by  his 
friend  and  his  enemy,  one  thing  appears  certain  and  clear  in  m/ 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  327 

opinion : that  in  no  period,  in  no  case,  in  no  circumstance,  could 
there  have  been  any  contact  between  him  and  me.” 

But  Villefort  uttered  words  which  even  he  himself  did  not  be- 
lieve. While  he  was  endeavoring  to  calm  his  fears,  imagining  a 
future  limited  to  the  enjoyments  of  home,  fearing  to  awaken  the 
enemy  that  had  so  long  slept,  the  noise  of  a carriage  sounded  in 
the  yard,  then  he  heard  the  steps  of  an  aged  person  ascending 
the  stairs,  followed  by  tears  and  lamentations,  such  as  servants 
always  assume  when  they  wish  to  appear  interested  in  their  mas- 
ter’s' grief.  He  drew  back  the  bolt  of  his  door,  almost  directly 
an  old  lady  entered,  unannounced,  carrying  her  shawl  on  her 
arm,  and  her  bonnet  in  her  hand.  The  white  hair  was  thrown 
back  from  her  yellow  forehead,  and  her  eyes,  already  sunken  by 
the  furrows  of  age,  now  almost  disappeared  beneath  the  eyelids  so 
swollen  with  grief.  “Oh,  sir,”  she  said  ; “ oh,  sir,  what  a mis- 
fortune ! I shall  die  of  it ; oh  ! yes,  I shall  certainly  die  of  it ! ” 

And  then,  falling  upon  the  chair  nearest  the  door,  she  burst 
into  a paroxysm  of  sobs.  The  servants,  standing  in  the  doorway, 
not  daring  to  approach  nearer,  were  looking  at  Noirtier’s  old 
servant,  who,  having  heard  a noise  in  his  master’s  room,  had  run 
there  also,  and  remained  behind  the  others.  Villefort  rose,  and 
ran  toward  his  mother-in-law,  for  it  was  she. 

“ Saint-Meran  is  dead  ! ” answered  the  old  marchioness,  with- 
out preface,  without  expression  ; she  appears  stupefied.  Villefort 
drew  back,  and  clasping  his  hands  together,  exclaimed — “ Dead  ! 
so  suddenly  ? ” 

“A  week  ago,”  continued  Mdme.  de  Saint-Meran,  “ we  went 
out  together  in  the  carriage  after  dinner.  M.  de  Saint-Meran  had 
been  unwell  for  some  days  ; still,  the  idea  of  seeing  our  dear  Val- 
entine again  inspired  him  with  courage  ; and,  notwithstanding 
his  illness,  he  would  leave  ; when,  at  six  leagues  from  Marseilles, 
after  having  eaten  some  of  the  lozenges  he  is  accustomed  to  take,  he 
fell  into  such  a deep  sleep,  that  it  appeared  to  me  unnatural  ; still  I 
hesitated  to  wake  him,  when  I fancied  his  face  became  red,  and 
that  the  veins  in  his  temples  throbbed  more  violently  than  usual. 
However,  as  it  became  dark,  and  I could  no  longer  see,  I fell 
asleep  ; I was  soon  awoke  by  a piercing  skriek,  as  from  a person 
suffering  in  his  dreams,  and  he  suddenly  threw  his  head  back.  I 
stopped  the  postilion,  I called  M.  de  Saint-Meran,  I applied  my 
smelling-salts  ; but  all  was  over,  and  I arrived  at  Aix  by  the  side 
of  a corpse.”  Villefort  stood  with  his  mouth  half  open,  quite 
stupefied.  “ It  appears  to  have  been  an  apoplectic  stroke.” 

“ And  what  did  you  do  then  ? ” 

“ I had  him  put  into  a leaden  coffin,  and  1 am  preceding  him  by 
a few  days. 

Where  is  Valentine,  sir  ? It  is  on  her  account  I am  here  ; I 
wish  to  see  Valentine.”  Villefort  thought  it  would  be  terrible  to 
reply  that  Valentine  was  at  a ball : so  he  only  said  that  she  had  gon« 


328 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


out  with  her  step-mother,  and  that  she  should  be  fetched.  " This 
instant,  sir — this  instant,  I beseech  you!”  said  the  old  lady. 
Villefort  conducted  her  to  his  apartment.  . 

Villefort  left  her  to  the  care  of  the  women,  while  old  Barrois 
ran,  half-scared,  to  his  master  ; for  nothing  frightens  old  men  so 
much  as  when  death  relaxes  its  vigilance  over  them  for  a mo- 
ment in  order  to  strike  some  other  old  man.  Then,  while  Mdme.  de 
Saint-Meran,  still  on  her  knees,  remained  praying  fervently,  Vil- 
lefort sent  for  a coach,  and  went  himself  to  fetch  his  wife  and 
daughter  from  Morcerf  s.  He  was  so  pale  when  he  appeared  at 
the  door  of  the  ball-room,  that  Valentine  ran  to  him,  saying — 

" Oh,  father  ! some  misfortune  has  happened  I ” 

“Your  grandmamma  has  just  arrived,  Valentine,”  said  M.  de 
Villefort. 

"And  grandpapa!  ” inquired  the  girl,  trembling  with  apprehen- 
sion. M.  de  Villefort  only  replied  by  offering  his  arm  to  his 
daughter.  It  was  just  in  time,  for  Valentine’s  head  swam,  and 
she  staggered  ; Mdme.  de  Villefort  instantly  hastened  to  her  as- 
sistance, and  aided  her  husband  in  dragging  her  to  the  carriage, 
saying — " What  a singular  event ! Who  could  have  thought  it? 
Ah,  yes,  it  is  indeed  strange!”  And  the  wretched  family  de- 
parted, leaving  a cloud  sadness  hanging  over  the  rest  of  the 
evening.  At  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  Valentine  found  Barrois  await- 
ing her. 

" M.  Noirtier  wishes  to  see  you  to-night,”  he  said,  in  an  un- 
dertone. 

4<  Tell  him  I will  come  when  I leave  my  dear  grandmamma,” 
she  replied,  feeling,  with  true  delicacy,  that  the  person  to  whom 
she  could  be  of  the  most  service  just  then  was  the  widow. 

At  last  she  came  up  to  Noirtier,  on  leaving  Mdme.  de 
Saint-Meran,  who,  in  the  midst  of  her  grief,  had  at  last 
yielded  to  fatigue,  and  fallen  into  a feverish  sleep.  Within 
reach  of  her  hand  they  placed  a small  table,  upon  which 
stood  a bottle  of  orangeade,  her  usual  beverage,  and  a 
glass.  Then,  as  we  have  said,  the  young  girl  left  the  bedside  to 
see  M.  Noirtier.  Valentine  kissed  the  old  man,  who  looked  at 
her  with  such  tenderness  that  her  eyes  again  filled  with  tears, 
whose  sources  he  thought  must  be  exhausted.  The  old  gentle- 
man continued  to  dwell  upon  her  with  the  same  expression.  " Yes, 
yes,”  said  Valentine,  " you  mean  that  I have  yet  a kind  grand- 
father left,  do  you  not?”  The  old  man  intimated  that  such 
was  his  meaning.  "Alas!  happily  I have,”  replied  Valentine. 
" Without  that,  what  would  become  of  me  ? ” 

It  was  one  o’clock  in  the  morning.  Barrois,  who  wished  to 
go  to  bed  himself,  observed,  that  after  such  sad  events,  every  one 
stood  in  need  of  rest.  Noirtier  would  not  say  that  the  only  rest 
he  needed  was  to  see  his  child,  but  wished  her  good-night,  for 
grief  .and  fatigue  had  made  her  appear  quite  ill.  The  next  morn- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR/STO* 


329 


5ng  found  her  grandmother  in  bed ; the  fever  had  not  abated  * 
on  the  contrary,  her  eyes  glistened,  and  she  appeared  to  be  suf- 
fering from  violent  nervous  irritability.  *'  Oh,  dear  grand- 
mamma! are  you  worse?”  exclaimed  Valentine,  perceiving  all 
these  signs  of  agitation. 

44  No,  my  child,  no  ! ” said  Mdme.  de  Saint-Meran,  44  but  I was 
impatiently  waiting  for  you  and  your  father.'* 

f An  instant  afterwards  Villeforte  entered,  44  Sir,”  said  Mdme. 
de  Saint-Meran,  without  using  any  circumlocution,  and,  as  if  fear- 
ing she  had  no  time  to  lose,  44  you  wrote  to  me  concerning  the 
marriage  of  this  child  to  Franz  d’Epinary?  I must  hasten,  the 
marriage,  for  I have  but  a short  time  to  live.” 

44  You,  madame?  ” 

41  You,  dear  mamma?”  exclaimed  M.  de  Villefort  and  Valen- 
tine  at  the  same  time. 

44 1 know  what  I am  saying,”  continued  the  marchioness  ; 44 1 
must  hurry  you,  so  that,  having  no  mother,  she  may  at  least  have 
a grandmother  to  bless  her  marriage.  1 am  all  that  is  left  to  her 
belonging  to  my  poor  Renee,  whom  you  have  so  soon  forgotten, 

sir.” 44  Ah,  madame,”  said  Villefort,  44  you  forget  that  I was 

obliged  to  give  a mother  to  my  child.” 

44  A stepmother  is  never  a mother,  sir.  But  this  is  not  to  the 
purpose,  our  business  concerns  Valentine  ; let  us  leave  the  dead 
in  peace.” 

All  this  was  said  with  such  exceeding  rapidity,  that  there  was 
something  in  the  conversation  that  seemed  like  delirium. 

44  It  shall  be  as  you  wish,  madame,”  said  Villefort ; 44  more  espe- 
cially since  your  wishes  coincide  with  mine  ; and  as  soon  as  M, 
d’Epinay  arrives  in  Paris ■” 

44  My  dear  mother,”  interrupted  Valentine,  44  consider  decorum 
— the  recent  death.  You  would  not  have  me  marry  under  such 
sad  auspices  ? ’ 4 

at  My  child,”  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  sharply,  “let  us  hear  none 
of  those  conventional  objections  that  deter  weak  minds  from  form- 
ing their  fortunes.  I also  was  married  at  the  death-bed  of  my 
mother,  and  certainly  I have  not  been  less  happy  on  that  account. 
This  night  I have  had  a fearful  sleep.  It  seemed  as  though  my 
soul  were  already  hovering  over  my  body  ; my  eyes,  which  I tried 
to  open,  closed  against  my  will : and  what  will  appear  impossible 
above  all  to  you,  sir,  I saw,  with  my  eyes  shut,  in  the  spot  where 
you  are  now  standing,  issuing  from  that  corner  where  there  is  a 
door  leading  into  Mdme.  Villefort’ s dressing-room — I saw,  I tell 
you,  silently  enter,  a white  figure.  It  was  the  spirit  of  my  hus- 
band ! — Well,  if  my  husband’s  soul  can  come  to  me,  why  should 
not  my  soul  reappear  to  guard  my  grand-daughter  ? the  tie  is  even 

more  direct,  it  seems  to  me.” 44  Oh  ! madame,”  said  Villefort, 

deeply  affected,  in  spite  of  himself/’  do  not  yield  to  those  gloomy 


330 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


thoughts  ; you  will  long  live  with  us,  happy,  loved,  and  honored* 
and  we  will  make  you  forget ” 

“ Never,  never,  never!  ” said  the  marchioness.  11  When  does 
M.  d’Epinay  return?’* 

“ We  expect  him  every  moment.” 

“It  is  well.  As  soon  as  he  arrives  inform  me.  We  must  be 
expeditious.  And  then  I also  wish  to  see  a notary,  that  I may  be 

assured  that  all  our  property  returns  to  Valentine.” “ Ah,  my 

mother!  ” murmured  Valentine,  pressing  her  lips  on  the  burning 
brow  of  her  grandmother,  “do  you  wish  to  kill  me?  Oh,  how 
feverish  you  are ! we  must  not  send  for  a notary,  but  for  a 
doctor!  ” 

“ A doctor ! ” said  she,  shrugging  her  shoulders,  “lam  not  ill ; 
I am  thirsty — that  is  all.” 

“ What  are  you  drinking,  dear  mamma?” 

“ The  same  as  usual,  my  dear,  my  gk  is  is  there  on  the  table — 
give  it  me,  Valentine.”  Valentine  poured  the  orangeade  into  a 
glass,  and  gave  it  to  her  grandmother  with  a certain  degree  of 
dread,  for  it  was  the  same  glass,  she  fancied,  that  had  been 
touched  by  the  spectre.  The  marchioness  drained  the  glass  at  a 
single  draught,  and  then  turned  on  her  pillow,  repeating, — “ The 
notary  ! the  notary  ! ” 

M.  de  Villefort  left  the  room,  and  Valentine  seated  herself  at  the 
bedside  of  her  grandmother.  Two  hours  passed  thus  ; Mdme.  de 
Saint-Meran  was  in  a feverish  sleep,  and  the  notary  had  arrived. 
Though  announced  in  a very  low  tone,  Mdme.  de  Saint-Meran 
arose  from  her  pillow.  “ The  notary  ! ” she  exclaimed,  “ let  him 
come  in.” 

The  notary,  who  was  at  the  door,  immediately  entered.  “ Go, 
Valentine,”  said  Mdme.  de  Saint-Meran,  “ and  leave  me  with  this 
gentleman.” 

The  girl  kissed  her  grandmother,  and  left  with  her  handkerchief 
to  her  eyes  ; at  the  door  she  found  the  footman,  who  told  her  the 
doctor  was  waiting  in  the  dining-room.  Valentine  instantly  ran 
down.  The  doctor  was  a friend  of  the  family,  and  at  the  same 
time  one  of  the  leading  men  of  the  day,  and  very  fond  of  Valen- 
tine, whose  birth  he  had  witnessed.  He  had  himself  a daughter 
about  her  age  ; but  whose  life  was  one  continued  source  of  anxiety 
and  fear  to  him  from  her  mother  having  been  consumptive. 

“ Oh,”  said  Valentine,  “ we  have  been  waiting  for  you  with  such 
impatience,  dear  M.  d’Avrigny.  It  is  for  my  poor  grandmother  ; 
*vyou  know  the  calamity  that  has  happened  to  us,  do  you  not?  My 
^grandfather  is  dead  from  an  apoplectic  stroke.” 

“ An  apoplectic  stroke  ? ” repeated  the  doctor. 

“Yes!  and  my  poor  grandmother  fancies  that  her  husband, 
whom  she  never  left,  has  called  her,  and  that  she  must  go  and 
join  him.” 

M It  is  singular,”  said  the  doctor ; 91 1 was  not  aware  that  Mdme. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


331 


de  Saint<Meran  was  subject  to  such  hallucinations.  " “ It  is  the 

first  time  I ever  saw  her  thus,”  said  Valentine,  “ and  this  morning 
she  frightened  me  so,  that  I thought  her  mad  ; and  my  father, 
a strong-minded  man,  himself  appeared  deeply  impressed.” 

“We  will  go  and  see,”  said  the  doctor;  “what  you  tell  me 
seems  very  strange.”  The  notary  here  descended,  and  Valentine 
was  informed  her  grandmother  was  alone.  “ Go  up-stairs,”  she 
said  to  the  doctor. 

“ And  you?  ” “ Oh,  1 dare  not — she  forbade  my  sending  for 

you  ; and,  as  you  say,  I am  myself  agitated,  feverish,  and  unwell. 
I will  go  and  take  a turn  in  the  garden  to  recover  myself.”  The 
dcctor  pressed  Valentine’s  hand,  and  while  he  visited  her  grand- 
mother, she  descended  the  steps.  We  need  not  say  which  portion 
of  the  garden  was  her  favorite  walk.  After  remaing  for  a short 
time  in  the  parterre  surrounding  the  house,  and  gathering  a rose 
to  place  in  her  waist  or  hair,  she  turned  into  the  dark  avenue 
which  led  to  the  bank  ; then  from  the  bank  she  went  to  the  gate. 
As  usual,  Valentine  strolled  for  a short  time  among  her  flowers  but 
without  gathering  them.  The  mourning  in  her  heart  forbade  her 
assuming  this  simple  ornament,  though  she  had  not  yet  had  time 
to  put  on  the  outward  semblance  of  woe.  She  then  turned  toward 
the  avenue.  As  she  advanced  she  fancied  she  heard  a voice  pro- 
nounce her  name.  She  stopped  astonished,  then  the  voice  reached 
her  ear  more  distinctly,  and  she  recognized  Maximilian’s. 

“You  here  at  this  hour?”  said  she.  “Yes,  my  poor  girl," 
replied  Morrel  ; “ I come  to  bring  and  to  hear  bad  tidings.” 

“ This  is,  indeed,  a house  of  mourning  ! ” said  Valentine ; “speak, 

Maximilian  ; although  the  cup  of  sorrow  seems  already  full.” 

“Dear  Valentine,”  said  Morrel,  endeavoring  to  conceal  his  own 
emotion,  “ listen,  I entreat  you  ; what  I am  about  to  say  is  solemn. 
To-morrow  you  will  be  engaged  to  M.  d’Epinay,  for  he  came  this 
morning  to  Paris.  r 

“ You  must  advise  me  what  to  do." 

“ I am  free,”  replied  Maximilian,  “ and  rich  enough  to  support 
you.  I swear  to  make  you  my  lawful  wife  before  my  lips  even 
shall  have  approached  your  forehead." 

“ My  God,”  said  Valentine,  raising  both  her  hands  to  heaven 
with  a sublime  expression,  “ I have  done  my  utmost  to  remain  a 
submissive  daughter  ; I have  begged,  entreated,  implored  ; he  has 
regarded  neither  my  prayers,  my  entreaties,  nor  my  tears.  It  is 
done,”  cried  she,  wiping  away  her  tears,  and  resuming  her  firm- 
ness, “ I am  resolved  not  to  die  of  remorse,  but  rather  of  shame. 
Yes,  you  are  right  ; Maximilian,  I will  follow  you.  I will  leave 
the  paternal  home,  I will  give  up  all.  Oh  ! ungrateful  girl  that  I 
am,”  cried  Valentine,  sobbing,  “ I will  give  up  all,  even  my  dear 
old  grandfather,  whom  I had  nearly  forgotten.” 

“ No,”  said  Maximilian,  “ you  shall  not  leave  him.  Mr.  Nor- 
^ier  has  evinced,  you  say,  a kind  feeling  toward  me.  Well ! before 


332 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


you  leave,  tell  him  all  ; his  consent  would  be  your  justification  in 
God’s  sight.  As  soon  as  we  are  married,  he  shall  come  and  live 
with  us ; instead  of  one  child,  he  shall  have  two.  You  have  told 
me  how  you  talk  to  him,  and  how  he  answers  you  ; I shall  very 
soon  learn  that  language  by  signs,  Valentine  ; and  I promise  you 
solemnly,  that  instead  of  despair,  it  is  happiness  that  awaits  us.” 

44  Now  listen  to  me,  Maximilian  ; if  by  artifice,  by  entreaty,  by 
accident — in  short,  if  by  any  means  I can  delay  this  marriage, 
will  you  wait  ? ” 

44  We  will  wait,”  said  Morrel.  44  Instead  of  signing— — ” 

44 1 will  join  you,  and  we  will  fly  ; but  from  this  moment  until 
then,  let  us  not  tempt  Providence,  Morrel  ; let  us  not  see  each 
other ; it  is  a miracle,  it  is  a providence  that  we  have  not  been  dis- 
covered ; if  we  were  surprised,  if  it  were  known  that  we  met  thus, 
we  should  have  no  further  resource.” 

44  You  are  right,  Valentine  ; but  how  shall  I ascertain?” 

44  From  the  notary,  M.  Deschamps,” 

44  I know  him.” 

44  And  for  myself— I will  write  to  you,  depend  on  me.  I dread 
this  marriage,  Maximilian,  as  much  as  you.” 

44  Thank  you,  my  adored  Valentine,  thank  you.” 

It  was  on  the  following  day,  at  about  ten  o’clock  in  the  morning, 
as  he  was  starting  to  call  on  Deschamps,  the  notary,  that  he 
received  from  the  mail  deliverer  a small  note,  which  he  knew  to  be 
from  Valentine,  although  he  had  not  before  seen  her  writing.  It 
was  to  this  effect : — 

44  Tears,  entreaties,  prayers,  have  avaif^d  me  nothing.  Yester- 
day, for  two  hours,  I was  at  the  church  ol  Saint  Philip,  and  for  two 
hours  I prayed  most  fervently.  Heaved  is  as  inflexible  as  man, 
and  the  signature  of  the  .contract  is  fixe*  for  this  evening  at  nine 
o’clock.  I have  but  one  promise  and  butane  heart  to  give  ; that 
promise  is  pledged  to  you,  that  heart  is  als<?  ^ours.  This  evening, 
then,  at  a quarter  past  nine,  at  the  gate. 

44  Your  betrothed, 

44  Valentine  De  Villefort.” 

44  P.  S. — My  poor  grandmother  gets  worse  aiK  worse;  yesterday 
her  fever  amounted  to  delirium  ; to-day  her  delirium  is  almost 
madness.  You  will  be  very  kind  to  me,  will  you  ^ot,  Morrel,  to 
make  me  forget  my  sorrow  in  leaving  her  thus  ? I thi^k  it  is  kept 
a secret  from  grandpapa  Noirtier,  that  the  contract  is  to  be  signed 
this  evening.” 

Morrel  was  punctual. 

No  one  came,  and  tired  of  waiting,  Maximilian  determined  on 
the  rash  step  of  entering  the  house.  But,  passing  through  the  gar- 
den, he  was  stopped  by  hearing  a voice  at  a distance. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


333 


He  stepped  back  and  concealed  himself  completely,  remaining 
perfectly  motionless.  He  had  formed  his  resolution  : if  it  was 
Valentine  alone,  he  would  speak  as  she  passed  ; if  she  was  ac- 
companied, and  he  could  not  speak,  still  he  should  see  her,  and 
know  that  she  was  safe  ; if  they  were  strangers,  he  would  listen  to 
their  conversation,  and  might  understand  something  of  this  hitherto 
incomprehensible  mystery.  The  moon  had  just  then  escaped  from 
behind  the  cloud  wnich  had  concealed  it,  and  Morrel  saw  Villefort 
come  out  upon  the  steps,  followed  by  a gentleman  in  black.  They 
descended,  and  advanced  toward  the  clump  of  trees,  and  Morrel 
soon  recognized  the  other  gentleman  as  Doctor  d’Avrigny. 

“ Ah,  my  dear  doctor,”  said  the  attorney,  “ Heaven  declares  it- 
self against  my  house  ! what  a blow  ! she  is  dead  ! ” A cold 
dampness  covered  the  young  man’s  brow,  and  his  teeth  chattered. 
Who  could  be  dead  in  that  house,  which  Villefort  himself  had 
called  accursed?  “My  dear  M.  de  Villefort,”  replied  the  doctor, 
with  a tone  which  redoubled  the  terror  of  the  young  man,  “ 1 have 
not  led  you  here  to  console  you  ; on  the  contrary,  I have  a terrible 
secret  to  communicate  to  you,”  said  the  doctor.  “ Let  us  sit 
down.” 

Villefort  fell,  rather  than  seated  himself.  The  doctor  stood  be- 
fore him,  with  one  hand  placed  on-  his  shoulder.  Morrel,  hor- 
rified, supported  his  head  with  one  hand,  and  with  the  other 
pressed  his  heart,  lest  its  beatings  should  be  heard.  “ Dead  ! 
dead!  ” repeated  he  within  himself;  and  he  felt  as  if  he  were 
also  dying. 

“Speak,  doctor — i am  listening,”  said  Villefort;  “strike — I 
am  prepared  for  everything!  ” 

“ Mdme.  de  Saint-Meran  was,  doubtless,  advancing  in  years, 
but  she  enjoyed  excellent  health.”  Morrel  began  again  to  breathe 
freely,  which  he  had  not  done  the  last  ten  minutes. 

“ Grief  has  consumed  her,”  said  Villefort — “yes,  grief,  doctor! 
After  living  forty  years  with  the  marquis ” 

“It  is  not  grief,  my  dear  Villefort,”  said  the  doctor ; “grief 
may  kill,  although  it  rarely  does,  and  never  in  a day,  never  in  an 
hour,  never  in  ten  minutes.” 

“ Mdme.  de  Saint-Meran  had  three  successive  attacks,  and  at 
the  third  she  expired.” 

“ At  the  end  of  the  first  attack  I discovered  symptoms  o£ 
tetanus  ; you  confirmed  my  opinion.” 

“Yes,  before  others,”  replied  the  doctor;  “but  now  we  are 
alone ” 

“ What  are  you  going  to  say  ? Oh,  spare  me  ! ” 

“ Mdme.  de  Saint-Meran  has  sunk  under  a violent  dose  of 
brucine  or  strychnine,  which  by  some  mistake,  perhaps,  has  been 
given  to  her.”  Villefort  seized  the  doctor’s  hand.  “ Oh,  it  is 
impossible ! ” said  he  ; “I  must  be  dreaming ! It  is  frightful  to 


334 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


beat*  such  things  from  such  a man  as  you  ! Tell  me,  I entreat  you# 
my  dear  doctor,  that  you  may  be  deceived. ” 

44  Has  any  one  besides  me  seen  Mdme.  de  Saint-Meran? 

44  No/’ 

44  Has  anything  been  sent  for  from  a druggist’s  that  I have  not 
examined  ? ” 

44  Nothing.* * 

41  Had  Mdme.  de  Saint-Meran  any  enemies?** 

41  Not  to  my  knowledge.'* 

44  Would  her  death  affect  any  one’s  interest  ? *’ 

44  It  could  not  indeed  ; my  daughter  is  her  only  heiress — Valen- 
tine alone.  Oh,  if  such  a thought  could  present  itself,  I would 
stab  myself  to  punish  my  heart  for  having  for  one  instant  har- 
bored it.” 

44  May  not  Barrois,  the  old  servant,  have  made  a mistake,  and 
have  given  Mdme.  de  Saint-Meran  a dose  prepared  for  his  mas- 
ter?” 

44  But  how  could  a dose  prepared  for  M.  Noirtier  poison 
Mdme.  de  Saint-Meran?” 

44  Nothing  is  more  simple.  You  know  poisons  become  remedies 
in  certain  diseases,  of  which  paralysis  is  one.  For  instance,  hav- 
ing tried  every  other  remedy  to  restore  movement  and  speech  to 
to  M.  Noitier,  I resolved  to  try  one  last  means,  and  for  three 
months  I have  been  giving  him  brucine  ; so  that  in  the  last  dose  I 
ordered  for  him  there  were  six  grains.  This  quantity,  which  it  is 
perfectly  safe  to  administer  to  the  paralyzed  frame  of  M.  Noitier, 
which  has  become  gradually  accustomed  to  it,  would  be  sufficient 
to  kill  another  person.” 

44  What  do  you  propose  tome,  D’Avrigny?”  said  Villefort  in 
despair,  44  so  soon  as  another  is  admitted  into  our  secret,  an  in- 
quest will  become  necessary  ; and  an  inquest  in  my  house — im- 
possible ! Still,”  continued  the  lawyer,  looking  at  the  doctor 
with  uneasiness,  44  if  you  wish  it — if  you  demand  it,  it  shall  be 
done.  But,  doctor,  you  see  me  already  so  grieved — how  can  I 
introduce  into  my  house  so  much  scandal,  after  so  much  sorrow  ? 
My  wife  and  my  daughter  would  die  of  it ! And  I,  doctor — you 
know  a man  does  not  arrive  at  the  post  I occupy — one  has  not 
been  public  prosecutor  twenty-five  years  without  having  amassed 
a tolerable  number  of  enemies ; mine  are  numerous.  Let  this 
affair  be  talked  of,  it  will  be  a triumph  for  them,  which  will  make 
jthem  rejoice,  and  cover  me  with  shame.  Pardon  me,  doctor, 
these-  worldly  ideas ; were  you  a priest  I should  not  dare  tell  you 
that ; but  you  are  a man,  and  you  know  mankind.  Doctor,  pray 
recall  your  words  ; you  have  said  nothing,  have  you?” 

41  My  dear  M.  de  Villefort,”  replied  the  doctor,  44  my  first  duty  is 
humanity.  I would  have  saved  Mdme.  de  Saint-Meran,  if 
science  could  have  done  it ; but  she  is  dead,  my  duty  regards  the 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTQ.  3^5 

Mving.  Let  us  bury  this  terrible  secret  in  the  deepest  recesses  of 
our  hearts.  ” 

"I  thank  you,  doctor,”  said  Villefort,  with  indescribable  joy  ; 
«•  I never  had  a better  friend  than  you.”  And,  as  if  heTeared 
Avrigny  would  recall  his  promise,  he  hurried  him  toward  the 
house. 

When  they  were  gone,  Morrel  ventured  out  from  under  the 
trees,  and  the  moon  shone  upon  his  face,  which  was  so  pale  it 
might  have  been  taken  for  a phantom.  11 1 am  manifestly  pro* 
tected  in  a most  wonderful,  but  most  terrible  manner,35  said  he  ; 
•'but  Valentine,  poor  girl!  how  will  she  bear  so  much  sor- 
row ? ” ' 

As  he  thought  thus,  he  looked  alternately  at  the  window  with 
red  curtains  and  the  three  windows  with  white  curtains.  The 
light  had  almost  disappeared  from  the  former : doubtless  Mdme. 
de  Villefort  had  just  put  out  her  lamp,  and  the  night-lamp  alone 
reflected  its  dull  light  on  the  window.  At  the  extremity  of  the 
building,  on  the  contrary,  he  saw  one  of  the  three  windows  open. 
A wax-light  placed  on  the  mantel-piece  threw  some  of  its  pale 
rays  without,  and  a shadow  was  seen  for  one  moment  on  the  bal- 
cony. Morrel  shuddered,  he  thought  he  heard  a sob. 

It  cannot  be  wondered  at  that  his  mind,  generally  so  courageous, 
but  now  disturbed  by  the  two  strongest  human  passions,  love  and 
fear,  was  weakened  even  to  the  indulgence  of  superstitious  thoughts. 
Although  it  was  impossible  Valentine  could  see  him,  hidden  as 
he  was,  he  thought  he  heard  the  shadow  at  the  window  call  him ; 
his  disturbed  mind  told  him  so.  This  double  error  became  an  ir- 
resistible reality,  and  by  one  of  those  incomprehensible  transports 
of  youth,  he  bounded  from  his  hiding-place,  and  with  two  strides, 
at  the  risk  of  being  seen,  at  the  risk  of  alarming  Valentine,  at 
the  risk  of  being  discovered  by  some  exclamation  which  might 
escape  the  girl,  he  crossed  the  flower-garden,  which,  by  the  light 
of  the  moon,  resembled  a large  white  lake,  and,  having  passed 
the  rows  of  orange-trees  which  extended  in  front  of  the  house,  he 
reached  the  step,  ran  quickly  up,  and  pushed  the  door,  which 
opened  without  offering  any  resistance. 

Morrel  was  mad.  Happily  he  did  not  meet  any  one,  Nowv 
especially,  did  he  find  the  description  Valentine  had  given  oi 
the  interior  of  the  house  useful  to  him ; he  arrived  safely  at  the 
top  of  the  staircase,  and  while  feeling  his  way,  a sob  indicated 
the  direction  he  was  to  take  ; he  turned  back:  a door  partly  open 
unabled  him  to  see  his  road,  and  to  hear  the  sorrowing  voice.  He 
pushed  it  open  and  entered.  At  the  other  end  of  the  roomc  under 
a white  sheet  which  covered  it,  lay  the  corpse,  still  more  alarming 
to  Morrel  since  the  account  he  had  so  unexpectedly  overheard. 
By  the  side,  on  her  knees,  and  her  head  buried  in  the  cushion  of 
an  easy  chair,  was  Valentine,  trembling  and  sobbing,  her  hands 
extended  above  her  head,  clasped  and  stiff.  He  sighed,  acd 


33^ 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTQ. 


whispered  a name.  Valentine,  as  her  only  apology  for  not  hav- 
ing met  him,  pointed  to  the  corpse  under  the  sheet,  and  began  t® 
sob  again.  Neither  dared  for  some  time  to  speak  in  that  room. 
They  hesitated  to  break  the  silence  which  death  seemed  to  impose ; 
at  length  Valentine  ventured. 

44  My  friend,”  said  she,  44  how  came  you  here?  . Alas,  I would 
say  you  are  welcome,  had  not  death  opened  the  way  for  you  into 
this  house.” 

"Valentine,”  said  Morrel,  with  a trembling  voice,  41  your  serv- 
ants,” said  he,  44  were  repeating  the  sorrowful  story  ; from  them 
I learned  it  all.  But  what  has  become  of  M.  d’Epinay  ? ” 

44  M.  Franz  arrived  to  sign  the  contract  just  as  my  dear  grand- 
mother was  dying.” 

44 Alas!”  said  Morrel,  with  a feeling  of  selfish  joy;  for  he 
thought  this  death  would  cause  the  wedding  to  be  postponed  indef- 
initely. 44  But  what  redoubles  my  sorrow,”  continued  the  girl,  as 
if  the  feeling  was  to  receive  its  immediate  punishment,  44  is  that 
the  poor  old  lady,  on  her  death-bed,  requested  the  marriage  might 
take  place  as  soon  as  possible  ; she  also,  thinking  to  protect  me, 
was  acting  against  me.” 

44  Hark!  ” said  Morrel.  They  both  listened  ; steps  were  dis- 
tinctly heard  in  the  corridor  and  on  the  stairs. -4 4 It  is  my  father, 

who  has  just  left  his  cabinet.” 

44  To  accompany  the  doctor  to  the  door,”  added  Morrel. 

44  How  do  you  know  it  is  the  doctor?”  asked  Valentine, 
astonished. 

44 1 imagine  it  mus'c  be,”  said  Morrel.  Valentine  looked  at  the 
young  man  ; they  heard  the  street-door  close  ; then  M.  de  Ville- 
fort  locked  the  garden-door,  and  returned  up-stairs.  He  stopped 
a moment  in  the  ante-room,  as  if  hesitating  whether  to  turn  to  his 
own  apartment  or  into  Mdme.  de  Saint-Meran’s  ; Morrel  concealed 
himself  behind  a door ; Valentine  remained  motionless,  grief 
seemed  to  deprive  her  of  all  fear.  M.  de  Villefort  passed  on  to 
his  own  room.  44  Now,”  said  Valentine,  44  you  can  neither  go  out 
by  the  front-door  nor  by  the  garden.”  Morrel  looked  at  her  with 
astonishment.  44  There  is  but  one  way  left  you  that  is  safe,”  said 
she  ; 44  it  is  through  my  grandfather’s  room.” 

She  led  the  way  down  a narrow  staircase  to  M.  Noirtier's  room  ; 
Morrel  followed  her  on  tiptoe  ; at  the  door  they  found  the  old  serv- 
ant. 44  Barrois,”  said  Valentine,  44  shut  the  door,  and  let  no  one 
come  in.”  She  passed  first.  Noirtier,  seated  in  his  chair,  and 
listening  to  every  sound,  was  watching  the  door  : he  saw  Valentine, 
and  his  eyes  brightened.  There  was  something  grave  and  solemn 
in  the  approach  of  the  girl  which  struck  the  old  man,  and  imme- 
diately his  bright  eye  began  to  interrogate.  44  Dear  grandfather,” 
said  she  hurriedly,  44  you  know  poor  grandmamma  died  an  hour 
since,  and  now  I have  no  friend  in  the  world  but  you.”  His  ex- 
pressive eyes  evinced  the  greatest  tenderness.  44  To  you  alone* 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR/STO. 


33 i 


then,  may  I confide  my  sorrows  and  my  hopes?”  The  paralytic 
motioned  11  Yes.”  Valentine  took  Maximilian’s  hand.  The  old 
man  fixed  his  scrutinizing  gaze  with  slight  astonishment  on 
Morrel.  “ This  is  M.  Maximilian  Morrel,”  said  she  ; “ the  son  of 
that  good  merchant  of  Marseilles,  whom  you  doubtless  recollect. ' 

“ Yes,”  said  the  old  man. 

“ He  brings  an  irreproachable  name,  which  Maximilian  is  likely 
to  render  glorious,  since  at  thirty  years  of  age  he  is  a captain,  an 
officer  of  the  Legion  of  Honor.”  The  old  man  signified  that  he 
recollected  him.  “Well,  grandpapa,”  said  Valentine,  kneeling 
before  him,  and  pointing  to  Maximilian,  “ I love  him,  and  will  be 
only  his ; were  I compelled  to  marry  another,  I would  destroy  my- 
self.” 

The  eyes  of  the  paralytic  expressed  a multitude  of  tumultuous 
thoughts. 

“ And  you  will  protect  us,  who  are  your  children,  against  the 
will  of  my  father  ? ’ ’ 

Noirtier  cast  an  intelligent  glance  at  Morrel,  as  if  to  say,  “ Per- 
haps I may.”  Maximilian  understood  him. 

“ Mademoiselle,”  said  he,  “ you  have  a sacred  duty  to  fulfil  in 
your  deceased  grandmother’s  room,  will  you  allow  me  the  honor 

of  a few  minutes  conversation  with  M.  Noirtier?” “ That  is 

it,”  said  the  old  man’s  eye. 

Valentine  rose,  placed  a chair  for  Morrel,  requested  Barrois 
aot  to  admit  any  one,  and  having  tenderly  embraced  her  grand- 
papa, and  sorrowfully  taken  leave  of  Morrel,  she  went  away.  To 
prove  to  Noirtier  that  he  was  in  Valentines’s  confidence  and  knew 
all  their  secrets,  Morrel  took  the  dictionary,  a pen,  and  some 
paper,  and  placed  them  all  on  a table  where  there  was  a light. 

He  related  the  manner  in  which  he  had  become  acquainted 
with  Valentine,  and  how  he  loved  her  ; and  that  Valentine,  in  her 
solitude  and  her  misfortune,  had  accepted  the  offer  of  his  devotion. 
He  told  him  his  birth,  position,  fortune  ; and  more  than  once,  when 
he  consulted  the  look  of  the  paralytic,  that  look  answered,  “ That 
is  good,  proceed.” 

“ And  now,”  said  Morrel,  when  he  had  finished  the  first  part  of 
his  recital,  “ now  I have  told  you  of  my  love  and  my  hopes,  may 

I inform  you  of  my  intentions?” “Yes,”  signified  the  old 

man. 

“ This  was  our  resolution  : a cab  was  in  waiting  at  the  gate,  in 
which  I intended  to  carry  off  Valentine  to  my  sister’s  house,  to 
marry  her,  and  to  wait  respectfully  M.  de  Villefort’s  pardon.” 

“ No,”  said  Noirtier. 

“ There  is  another  way,”  said  Morrel.  The  old  man’s  interroga- 
tive eye  said,  “ Which  ? ” 

“ I will  go,”  continued  Maximilian,  “ I will  seek  M.  Franz 
d’Epinay — I am  happy  to  be  able  to  mention  this  in  Mademoiselle 

22 


338  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR/STO. 

tie  Villefort’i  absence — and  will  conduct  myself  toward  him  so  as 
to  compel  him  to  challenge  me.” 

When  Morrel  had  finished,  Noirtier  shut  his  eyes  several  times, 
which  was  his  manner  of  saying  “ No.” 

‘‘Whence  then  will  come  the  help  we  need — from  chance?” 

resumed  Morrel.  “ No.” “ From  you  ? ” “ Yes.” 

There  was  so  much  firmness  in  the  look  which  gave  this  answer, 
no  one  could,  at  any  rate,  doubt  his  will,  if  they  did  his  power. 
“Oh,  thank  you  a thousand  times!  But  how,  unless  a miracle 
should  restore  your  speech,  your  gesture,  your  movement,  how 
can  you,  chained  to  that  arm-chair,  dumb  and  motionless,  oppose 
this  marriage?”  A smile  lit  up  the  old  man’s  face,  a strange 
smile  of  the  eyes  on  a paralyzed  face.  “Then  I must  wait?” 
asked  the  young  man. 

“Yes.”- “But  the  contract?”  The  same  smile  returned. 

“ Will  you  assure  me  it  shall  not  be  signed?” “Yes,”  said 

Noirtier. 

“ Now,”  said  Morrel,  “ do  you  wish  me  to  retire  ? ” “ Yes.” 

“ Without  seeing  Valentine  ? ” “ Yes.” 

Morrel  then  bowed  and  retired.  He  found  the  old  servant  outside 
the  door,  to  whom  Valentine  had  given  directions  ; he  conducted 
Morrel  along  a dark  passage,  which  led  to  a little  door  opening  on 
the  garden.  Morrel  soon  found  the  spot  where  he  had  entered  ; 
with  the  assistance  of  the  shrubs  he  gained  the  top  of  the  wall, 
and  by  his  ladder  was,  in  an  instant,  in  the  clover-field,  where  his 
cab  was  still  waiting  for  him.  He  got  in  it,  and  thoroughly 
wearied  by  so  many  emotions,  he  arrived  about  midnight  in  the 
Rue  Meslay  , threw  himself  on  his  bed,  and  slept  soundly. 


CHAPTER  XLVII, 

THE  ESTOPPED  ENGAGEMENT 

Two  days  after,  a considerable  crowd  was  assembled,  toward 
Cen  o’clock  in  the  morning,  round  the  door  of  M.  de  Villefort’s 
house,  and  a long  file  of  mourning-coaches  and  private  carriages 
extended  along  the  street.  Among  them  was  one  of  a very  sin- 
gular form,  come  from  a distance,  a covered  wagon,  painted 
black.  It  was  ascertained  that,  by  a strange  coincidence,  this 
carriage  contained  the  corpse  of  the  Marquis  Saint-M^ran,  and 
that  those  who  had  come,  thinking  to  attend  one  funeral,  would 
follow  two.  The  two  bodies  were  to  be  interred  in  the  cemetery 
of  Pere-la-Chaise,  where  M.  de  Villefort  had  long  since  had  a 
tomb  prepared  for  the  reception  of  his  family.  The  remains  of 
poor  Renee  were  already  deposited  there,  whom,  after  ten%y*ars 
of  separation,  her  father  and  mother  were  now  going  to  rejoin. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


339 


These  two  sudden  deaths,  so  quickly  following  each  other, 
astonished  every  one  ; but  no  one  suspected  the  terrible  secret 
which  M.  d’Avrigny  had  communicated,  in  his  nocturnal  walk,  to 
M.  de  Villefort.  They  arrived  in  about  an  hour  at  the  cemetery  ; 
the  weather  was  mild,  but  dull,  and  in  harmony  with  the  funeral 
ceremony.  Among  the  groups  which  flocked  towards  the  family 
vault,  Chateau-Renaud  recognized  Morrel,  who  had  come  alone 
in  a cabriolet,  and  walked  silently  along  the  path  bordered  with 
yew-trees.  “ You  here  ! ” said  Chateau-Renaud,  passing  his  arms 
♦through  the  young  captain's;  “are  you  a friend  of  Villefort’s? 
liow  is  it  I have  never  met  you  at  his  house?  ” “ I am  no  ac- 

quaintance of  M.  de  Villefort’s,”  answered  Morrel,  “ but  I was  of 
Mdme.  de  Saint-Meran.”  Albert  came  up  to  them  at  this  moment 
with  Franz. 

“The  time  and  place  are  but  ill-suited  for  an  introduction,**  said 
Albert  ; “ but  we  are  not  superstitious.  M.  Morrel,  allow  me  to 
present  to  you  M.  Franz  d’Epinay,  a delightful  traveling  com- 
panion, with  whom  1 made  the  tour  of  Italy.  My  dear  Franz,  M. 
Maximilian  Morrel,  an  excellent  friend  I have  acquired  in  your 
absence,  and  whose  name  you  will  hear  me  mention  every  time  I 
make  any  allusion  to  affection,  wit.  or  amiability.’’  Morrel  hesi- 
tated for  a moment : he  feared  it  would  be  hypocritical  to  accost 
in  a friendly  manner  the  man  who  he  was  tacitly  opposing,  but 
his  oath  and  the  gravity  of  the  circumstances  recurred  to  his 
memory  ; he  struggled  to  conceal  his  emotion,  and  bowed  to 
Franz.  _ Mdlle.  de  Villefort  is  in  deep  sorrow,  is  she  not?”  said 
Debray  to  Franz. 

“ Extremely,”  replied  he  : “ she  looked  so  pale  this  morning,  I 
scarcely  knew  her.”  These  apparently  simple  words  pierced 
Morrel  to  the  heart.  This  man  had  then  seen  Valentine,  and 
spoken  to  her  ! The  young  and  high-spirited  officer  required  all 
his  strength  of  mind  to  resist  breaking  his  oath. 

Epinay  was  treated  like  one  of  the  family,  being  passed  into  the 
vault,  and  he  went  home  with  the  mourning  father. 

Scarcely  had  they  entered  his  house  than  Villefort  sent  to  tell 
Valentine  to  be  ready  in  the  drawing-room  in  half  an  hour,  as  he 
expected  the  notary  and  M.  d’Epinay  and  his  witnesses.  The 
news  caused  a great  sensation;  Mdme.  de  Villefort  would  not 
believe  it,  and  Valentine  wa§  thunderstruck.  She  looked  round 
for  help,  and  would  have  gone  down  to  her  grandfather’s  room, 
but  meeting  Villefort  on  the  stairs,  he  took  her  arm,  and  led  her 
into  the  drawing-room.  In  the  anteroom,  Valentine  met  Barrois, 
and  looked  despairingly  at  the  old  servant.  One  moment  after, 
Mdme.  de  Villefort  entered  the  drawing-room  with  little  Edward. 
It  was  evident  that  she  had  shared  the  grief  of  the  family,  for  she 
was  pale  and  looked  fatigued.  She  sat  down,  took  Edward  on  her 
knees,  and,  from  time  to  time,  pressed  almost  convulsively  to  her 
bosom  this  child,  on  whom  her  affections  appeared  centred.  Two 


340 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


carriages  were  soon  heard  to  enter  the  courtyard.  One  was  the 
notary’s  ; the  other,  that  of  Franz’s  friends.  In  a moment  the 
whole  party  was  assembled.  Valentine  was  so  pale,  one  might 
trace  the  blue  veins  from  her  temples,  round  her  eyes  and  down 
her  cheeks.  Franz  was  deeply  affected.  Chateau-Renaud  and 
Albert  looked  at  each  other  with  amazement ; the  ceremony 
which  was  just  concluded  had  not  appeared  more  sorrowful  than 
did  that  which  was  commencing.  Mdme.  de  Villefort  had  placed 
herself  in  the  shade  behind  a velvet  curtain ; and  as  she  con- 
stantly bent  over  her  child,  it  was  difficult  to  read  the  expression 
of  her  face.  M.  de  Villefort  was,  as  usual,  unmoved. 

The  notary,  after  having,  according  to  the  customary  method, 
arranged  the  papers  on  the  table,  taken  his  place  in  an  arm-chair, 
and  raised  his  spectacles,  turned  towards  Franz  : — ‘‘Are  you  M. 
Franz  de  Quesnel,  baron  d’Epinay?”  asked  he,  although  he 
knew  it  perfectly. 

“ Yes,  sir,”  replied  Franz.  The  notary  bowed.  “ I have,  then, 
to  inform  you,  sir,  at  the  request  of  M.  de  Villefort,  that  your  pro- 
jected marriage  with  Mdlle.  de  Villefort  has  changed  the  feeling  of 
M.  Noitier  towards  his  grandchild  ; and  that  he  disinherits  her 
entirely  of  the  fortune  he  would  have  left  her.  Let  me  hasten  to 
add,”  continued  he,  “that  the  testator,  having  only  the  right  to 
alienate  a part  of  his  fortune,  and  having  alienated  it  all,  the  will 
will  not  bear  scrutiny,  and  is  declared  null  and  void.” 

“Yes,”  said  Villefort ; “but  I warn  M.  d’Epinay,  that  during 
my  lifetime  my  father’s  will  shall  never  be  scrutinized,  my  position 
forbidding  any  doubt  to  be  entertained.” 

M.  de  Villefort  had  scarcely  said  this,  when  the  door  opened, 
and  Barrois  appeared. 

“Gentlemen,”  said  he,  in  a tone  strangely  firm  for  a servant 
speaking  to  his  masters  under  such  solemn  circumstances, — 
“ gentlemen,  M.  Noirtier  de  Villefort  wishes  to  speak  immediately 
to  M.  Franz  de  Quesnel  baron  d’Epinay  : ” he,  as  well  as  the 
notary,  that  there  might  be  no  mistake  in  the  person,  gave  all  his 
titles  to  the  bridegroom  elect. 

Villefort  started,  Mdme.  de  Villefort  let  her  son  slip  from  her 
knees,  Valentine  rose,  pale  and  dumb  as  a statue.  Albert  and 
Chateau-Renaud  exchanged  a second  look,  more  of  amazement 
than  the  first.  The  notary  locked  at  Villefort. 

“ Pray  go,  Valentine,”  said  M.  de  Villefort,  “ and  see  what  this 
new  fancy  of  your  grandfather’s  is.”  Valentine  rose  quickly,  and 
was  hastening  joyfully  towards  the  door,  when  M.  de  Villefort 
altered  his  intention. 

“ Stop ! ” said  he  ; “I  will  go  with  you.” 

“Excuse  me,  sir,”  said  Franz,  “since  M.  Noirtier  sent  for 
me,  I am  ready  to  attend  to  his  wish  ; besides,  I shall  be  happy 
to  pay  my  respects  to  him,  not  having  yet  had  the  honor  of  doing 
io.” 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


341 


Noirtier  was  prepared  to  receive  them,  dressed  in  black,  and  in- 
stalled in  his  arm-chair.  When  the  three  persons  he  expected  had 
entered,  he  looked  at  the  door,  which  his  valet  immediately 
closed. 

“ Listen,”  whispered  Villefort  to  Valentine,  who  could  not  con- 
ceal her  joy;  “if  M.  Noirtier  wishes  to  communicate  anything 
which  would  delay  your  marriage,  I forbid  you  to  understand 
him.”  Valentine  blushed,  but  did  not  answer.  Villefort,  ap- 
proaching Noirtier — “Here  is  M.  Franz  d’Epinay,”  said  he; 
“ you  requested  to  see  him.  We  have  all  wished  for  this  interview, 
and  I trust  it  will  convince  you  how  ill-formed  are  your  objections 
to  Valentine’s  marriage.” 

Noirtier  answered  only  by  a look  which  made  Villefort’ s blood 
run  cold.  He  motioned  to  Valentine  to  approach,  and  by  his 
usual  method  had  her  call  Barrois  to  open  a secret  drawer  in  an 
old  desk.  A paper  taken  from  this  receptacle  was  to  be  given  to 
Epinay.  The  young  man  was  surprised  to  find  it  a “ Report  of  the 
Meeting,  5th  Feb.,  1815,  held  in  Our  Hall,  St.  Jacques  Street,  by 
the  Bonapartist  Club.”  It  detailed  that  Gen.  Flavien  Quesnel, 
made  baron  by  Louis  XVIII.,  was  still  believed  faithful  to  Napo- 
leon I.  On  challenging  his  creed,  he  declared  that  he  was  for  the 
deposed  monarch  and  against  the  Emperor.  The  committee  took 
his  word  of  honor  that  he  would  be  silent  on  what  he  had  heard 
and  seen  and  he  was  conducted  away  blindfolded  as  he  had  been 
led  in. 

Unfortunately,  his  language  had  been  taken  as  an  insult  by  the 
chairman  of  the  meeting  who,  when  his  eyes  were  unveiled,  on 
the  riverside,  suggested  that  they  should  settle  the  dispute  by 
arms.  He  was  armed  with  a sword  cane,  the  general  with  a 
sword,  but  in  spite  of  this  inequality  the  Bonapartist  slew  the 
royalist.  The  witnesses  of  the  meeting  and  the  duel  appended 
their  names  : L.  J.  Beaurepaire,  lieut-col.  of  artillery,  Brig. -gen. 
E.  Duchampy  and  Claude  Lecharpe  1,  Lord  High  Forester. 

When  Franz  had  finished  reading  this  account,  so  dreadful  for 
a son, — when  Valentine,  pale  with  emotion,  had  wiped  away  a 
tear, — when  Villefort,  trembling,  and  crouched  in  a corner,  had 
endeavored  to  lessen  the  storm  by  supplicating  glances  at  the  im- 
placable old  man, — he  said  to  Noirtier:  “ Since  you  are  well  ac- 

quainted with  all  these  details,  attested  by  honorable  signatures, — 
and  appear  to  take  some  interest  in  me,  although  you  have  only 
manifested  it  hitherto  by  causing  me  sorrow,  refuse  me  not  one 
final  satisfaction — tell  me  the  name  of  the  president  of  the  club, 
that  I may  at  least  know  who  killed  my  father.”  Villefort  me- 
chanically felt  for  the  handle  of  the  door ; Valentine,  who  under- 
stood sooner  than  anyone  her  grandfather’s  answer,  and  who  had 
often  seen  two  scars  upon  his  right  arm,  drew  back  a few  steps. 

At  Sir  J sir  J " cried  Franz,  turning  to  Noirtier,  M do  what  you  can! 


342 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


.—make  me  understand  in  some  way  ! ” “ Yes,'*  replied  Noir* 

tier. 

Noirtier  looked  at  the  dictionary.  Franz  took  it  with  a nerv- 
ous trembling,  and  repeated  the  letters  of  the  alphabet  success- 
ively, until  he  came  to  M.  At  that  letter  the  old  man  signified 

“ Yes.” The  young  man’s  finger  glided  over  the  words,  but  at 

each  one  Noirtier  answered  by  a negative  sign.  Valentine  hid  her 
head  between  her  hands.  At  length,  Franz  arrived  at  the  word 
MYSELF. “Yes!” 

“You!”  cried  Franz,  whose  hair  stood  on  end;  “you,  M. 
Noirtier ! — you  killed  my  father?  ” 

“Yes?”  replied  Noirtier,  fixing  a majestic  look  on  the  young 
man.  Franz  fell  powerless  on  a chair  ; Villefort  opened  the  door 
and  escaped,  for  the  idea  had  entered  his  mind  to  stifle  the  little 
remaining  life  in  the  old  man’s  heart. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

PROGRESS  OF  CAVALCANTI  JUNIOR. 

Meanwhile  M.  Cavalcanti  the  elder  had  returned  to  his  serv- 
ice, not  in  the  army  of  Austria,  but  at  the  gaming-table  of  Lucca, 
of  which  he  was  one  of  the  most  assiduous  courtiers.  He  had 
spent  every  penny  that  had  been  allowed  for  his  journey  as  a re- 
ward for  the  majestic  and  solemn  manner  in  which  he  had  main- 
tained his  assumed  character  of  father.  M.  Andrea  at  his  depart- 
ure inherited  all  the  papers  which  proved  that  he  had  indeed  the 
honor  of  being  the  son  of  the  Marquis  Bartolomeo  and  Oliva  Cor- 
sinari.  He  was  now  fairly  launched  in  that  Parisian  society  which 
gives  such  ready  access  to  foreigners,  and  treats  them,  not  as  what 
they  really  are,  but  as  what  they  wish  to  be  considered.  Besides, 
what  is  required  of  a young  man  in  Paris  ? To  speak  its  language 
tolerably,  to  make  a good  appearance,  to  be  a good  gamester,  and 
pay  in  cash.  They  are  certainly  less  particular  with  a foreigner 
than  with  a Frenchman.  Andrea  had,  then,  in  a fortnight,  at- 
tained a very  fair  position.  He  was  entitled  Count,  he  was  said  to 
possess  50,000  livres  per  annum ; and  his  father’s  immense  riches, 
buried  in  the  quarries  of  Saravezza,  were  a constant  theme.  A 
learned  man,  before  whom  the  last  circumstance  was  mentioned 
as  a fact,  declared  he  had  seen  the  quarries  in  question,  which 
gave  great  weight  to  assertions  hitherto  somewhat  doubtful,  but 
which  now  assumed  the  garb  of  reality. 

Such  was  the  state  of  society  in  Paris  at  the  period  we  bring  be- 
fore our  readers,  when  Monte-Cristo  went  one  evening  to  pay  M. 
Danglars  a visit.  M.  Danglars  was  out,  but  the  count  was  asked 
to  go  and  see  the  baroness,  and  he  accepted  the  invitation.  It  was 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


343 


never  without  a nervous  shudder,  since  the  dinner  at  Auteuil,  and 
the  events  which  followed  it,  that  Mdme.  Danglars  heard  Monte- 
Cristo’s  name  announced.  If  he  did  not  come,  the  painful  sensa- 
tion became  most  intense  ; if,  on  the  contrary,  he  appeared,  his 
noble  countenance,  brilliant  eyes,  amiability,  and  polite  attention 
even  toward  Mdme.  Danglars,  soon  dispelled  every  impression  of 
fear.  It  appeared  impossible  to  the  baroness  that  a man  of  such 
delightfully  pleasing  manners  should  entertain  evil  designs  against 
her  ; besides,  the  most  corrupt  minds  only  suspect  evil  when  it 
would  answer  some  interested  end — useles  injury  is  repugnant  to 
every  mind.  When  Monte-Cristo  entered  the  boudoir,  where  the 
baroness  was  examining  some  drawings,  which  her  daughter 
passed  to  her  after  having  looked  at  them  with  M.  Cavalcanti,  his 
presence  soon  produced  its  usual  effect ; and  it  was  with  smiles 
that  Ohe  baroness  received  the  count,  although  she  had  been  a lit- 
tle disconcerted  at  the  announcement  of  his  name.  The  latter 
embraced  the  whole  scene  at  a glance. 

The  baroness  was  partially  reclining,  Eugenie  sat  near  her,  and 
Cavalcanti  was  standing.  Cavalcanti,  dressed  in  black,  like  one 
of  Goethe’s  heroes,  with  japanned  shoes  and  open  white  silk  stock- 
ings, passed  a white  and  tolerably  nice-looking  hand  through  his 
light  hair,  in  the  midst  of  which  sparkled  a diamond,  which,  in 
spite  of  Monte-Cristo’s  advice,  the  vain  young  man  had  been  un- 
able to  resist  putting  on  his  little  finger.  This  movement  was  ac- 
companied by  killing  glances  at  Mdlle.  Danglars,  and  sighs  ad- 
dressed to  the  same  party.  Mdlle.  Danglars  was  still  the  same — 
cold,  beautiful,  and  satirical.  Not  one  of  these  glances,  nor  one 
sigh,  was  lost  on  her ; they  might  have  been  said  to  fall  on  the 
shield  of  Minerva,  which  some  philosophers  assert  protected  some- 
times the  breast  of  Sappho.  Eugenie  bowed  coldly  to  the  count, 
and  availed  herself  of  the  first  moment  when  the  conversation  be- 
came earnest  to  escape  to  her  study,  whence  very  soon  two  cheer- 
ful and  noisy  voices  being  heard,  in  connection  with  some  notes  of 
the  piano,  assured  Monte-Cristo  that  Mdlle.  Danglars  preferred  to 
his  society  and  Cavalcanti’s,  the  company  of  Louise  d’Armilly,  her 
tinging  governess. 

It  was  then,  especially  while  conversing  with  Mdme.  Danglars, 
md  apparently  absorbed  by  the  charm  of  the  conversation,  the 
~ount  remarked  M.  Andrea  Cavalcanti’s  solicitude,  his  manner  of 
listening  to  the  music  at  the  door  he  dared  not  pass,  and  of  mani- 
festing his  admiration.  The  banker  soon  returned.  His  first  look 
was  certainly  directed  toward  Monte-Cristo,  but  the  second  was 
for  Andrea.  As  for  his  wife,  he  bowed  to  her,  as  some  husbands 
do  to  their  wives,  but  which  bachelors  will  never  comprehend,  un« 
til  a very  extensive  code  is  published  on  conjugal  life. 

“Have  n«t  the  ladies  invited  you  to  join  them  at  the  piano?" 
said  Danglars  to  Andrea.  “Alas  1 no,  sir,”  replied  Andrea,  with 


344 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


a sigh,  still  more  remarkable  than  the  former  ones.  Danglars  im« 
mediately  advanced  toward  the  door  and  opened  it. 

The  two  young  ladies  were  seated  at  the  piano,  accompanying 
themselves,  each  with  one  hand,  a fancy  to  which  they  had  ac- 
customed themselves,  and  performed  admirably.  44  Well ! ” said 
the  banker  to  his  daughter,  44  are  we  then  all  to  be  excluded?” 
He  then  led  the  young  man  into  the  study,  and,  either  by  chance 
or  manoeuvre,  the  door  was  partially  closed  after  Andrea,  so  that 
from  the  place  where  they  sat  neither  the  count  nor  the  baroness 
could  see  anything  ; but  as  the  banker  had  accompanied  Andrea, 
Mdme.  Danglars  appeared  to  take  no  notice  of  it. 

The  count  soon  heard  Andrea’s  voice,  singing  a Corsican  song, 
accompanied  by  the  piano.  While  the  count  smiled  at  hearing  this 
song,  which  made  him  lose  sight  of  Andrea  in  the  recollection  of 
Benedetto,  Mdme.  Danglars  was  boasting  to  Monte-Cristo  of  her 
husband’s  strength  of  mind,  who  that  very  morning  had  lost  three 
or  four  hundred  thousand  francs  by  a failure  at  Milan.  The  praise 
was  well  deserved,  for  had  not  the  count  heard  it  from  the  baron- 
ess, or  by  one  of  those  means  by  which  he  knew  everything,  the 
baron’s  countenance  would  not  have  led  him  to  suspect  it. 
41  Hem ! ” thought  Monte-Cristo,  44  he  begins  to  conceal  his  losses; 
a month  since  he  boasted  of  them.”  Then  aloud, — 41  Oh!  ma- 
dame,  M.  Danglars  is  so  skilful,  he  will  soon  regain  at  the  Bourse 
what  he  loses  elsewhere.” 

Danglars  returned  at  this  moment  alone.  44  Well!  ” said  the 
baroness,  44  do  you  leave  M.  Cavalcanti  with  your  daughter?  ” 
— — 44  And  Mdlle.  d’Armilly,”  said  the  banker  ; 11  do  you  consider 
her  no  one  ? ” Then,  turning  to  Monte-Cristo,  he  said,  44  Prince 
Cavalcanti  is  a charming  young  man,  is  he  not?  But  is  he  really 
a prince? ” 

41 1 will  not  answer  for  it,”  said  Monte-Cristo.  44  His  father  was 
introduced  to  me  as  a marquis,  so  he  ought  to  be  a count ; but  I 
do  not  think  he  has  much  claim  to  that  title.” 

44  Why  ?”  said  the  banker.  44  If  he  is  a prince,  he  is  wrong 
not  to  maintain  his  rank  ; I do  not  like  any  one  to  deny  his  origin.” 
41  Oh  1 you  are  a pure  democrat,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  smiling. 

' 4i  But  do  you  see  to  what  you  are  exposing  yourself?  If,  per- 
chance, M.  de  Morcerf  came,  he  would  find  M.  Cavalcanti  in  that 
room,  where  he,  the  betrothed  of  Eugenie,  has  never  been  ad^ 
mitted.” 

44  You  may  well  say,  perchance,”  replied  the  banker  ; 44 for  he 
comes  so  seldom,  it  would  seem  only  chance  that  brings  him.” 

44  But  should  he  come,  and  find  that  young  man  with  your 
daughter,  he  might  be  displeased.” 

44  He ! you  are  mistaken  ; M.  Albert  would  not  do  us  the  honor 
to  be  jealous  ; he  does  not  like  Eugenie  sufficiently.  Besides,  I 
care  not  for  his  displeasure.” 

44 Still,  situated  as  we  are~«^0' 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


345 

>}i  Yes , do  you  know  how  we  are  situated?  At  nis  mother’s  ball 
V»,  danced  once  with  Eugenie,  and  M.  Cavalcanti  three  times,  and 
took  no  notice  of  it.”  The  valet  announced  Albert  de  Mor* 
cerf.  The  baroness  rose  hastily,  and  was  going  into  the  study, 
when  Danglars  stopped  her.  44  Stay! ,#  said  he.  She  looked  at 
him  in  amazement.  Monte-Cristo  appeared  to  be  unconscious  of 
- what  passed.  Albert  entered,  looking  very  handsome  and  in  high 
spirits.  He  bowed  politely  to  the  baroness,  familiarly  to  Dang- 
lars, and  affectionately  to  Monte-Cristo.  Then  turning  to  the  bar- 
eness : 44  May  I ask  how  Mdlle.  Danglars  is?”  said  he. 

44  She  is  quite  well,”  replied  Danglars,  quickly  ; 11  she  is  at  the 
piano  with  M.  Cavalcanti.”  Albert  preserved  his  calm  and  in- 
different manner ; he  might  feel,  perhaps  annoyed,  but  he  knew 
Monte-Cristo’s  eye  was  on  him.  44  M.  Cavalcanti  has  a fine  tenor 
voice.”  said  he,  44  and  Mdlle.  Eugenie  a splendid  soprano  ; and 
then  she  plays  on  the  piano  like  Thalberg.  The  concert  must  be 
a delightful  one.”  • 

41  They  suit  each  other  remarkably  well,”  said  Danglars.  Al- 
bert appeared  not  to  notice  this  remark,  which  was,  however,  so 
rude  that  Mdme.  Danglars  blushed. 

44  I,  too,”  said  the  young  man,  "am  a musician — at  least, 
my  masters  used  to  tell  me  so  ; but  it  is  strange  that  my  voice 
never  would  suit  any  other,  and  a soprano  less  than  any.”  Dang- 
lars smiled,  and  seemed  to  say,  It  is  of  no  consequence.  Then, 
hoping,  doubtless,  to  effect  his  purpose,  he  said, — “The  prince 
and  my  daughter  were  universally  admired  yesterday.  You  were 
not  of  the  party,  M.  de  Morcerf?  ” 

“What  prince?”  asked  Albert.  “Prince  Cavalcanti,”  said 
Danglars,  who  persisted  in  giving  the  young  man  that  title. 

" Pardon  me,”  said  Albert,  44  l was  not  aware  he  was  a prince. 
And  Prince  Cavalcanti  sang  with  M llle.  Eugenie  yesterday? 
It  must  have  been  charming,  indeed.  I regret  not  having  heard 
them.  But  I was  unable  to  accept  your  invitation,  having  prom- 
ised to  accompany  my  mother  tq.*  German  concert  given  by  the 
countess  of  Chateau-Renaud.” 

Danglars  was  quite  annoyed  by  the  young  man’s  indifference. 
He  took  Monte-Cristo  aside.  44  What  do  you  think  of  our  lover?” 
said  he. 

“ He  appears  cool ! But,  then,  your  word  is  given.” ••  Yes, 

doubtless,  I have  promised  to  give  my  daughter  to  a man  who 
loves  her,  but  not  to  one  who  does  not.  Even  if  Albert  had  Cav- 
alcanti’s fortune,  he  isso  proud,  I would  not  care  to  see  him  marry 
her.” 

41  Oh  ! ” said  Monte-Cristo,  44  my  fondness  may  blind  me,  but,  I 
assure  you,  I consider  Morcerf  far  preferable  ; and  his  father’s  po- 
sition is  good.” 

“ Hem  ! ” said  Danglars.  44  Why  do  you  doubt?” 

44  The  past— that  obscurity  on  the  past.” 44  But  that  does  no! 


346 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


affect  the  son.  Besides  you  cannot  break  it  off  thus  ; the  Mor- 
cerfs  are  depending  on  this  union.’* 

“ Then  let  them  explain  themselves  ; you  should  give  the  father 
a hint,  you  are  so  intimate  with  the  family.” 

“ I ? — where  the  devil  did  you  find  out  that?  ” 

“At  their  ball;  it  was  apparent  enough.  Why,  did  not  the 
countess,  the  proud  Mercedes,  the  disdainful  Catalan,  who  will 
scarcely  open  her  lips  to  her  oldest  acquaintances,  take  your  arm, 
lead  you  into  the  garden,  into  the  private  walks,  and  remain  there 
for  half  an  hour  ?—  But  will  you  undertake  to  speak  to  the  father  ? ” 

- “ Willingly,  if  you  wish  it.” “ But  let  it  be  done  explicitly 

and  positively.  If  he  demands  my  daughter,  let  him  fix  the  day 
—declare  his  conditions  : in  short,  let  us  either  understand  each 

other,  or  quarrel.  You  understand — no  more  delay,” “Yes, 

sir,  I will  give  my  attention  to  the  subject.” “ I do  not  say  I 

expect  him  with  pleasure,  but  I do  expect  him.  A banker  must, 
you  know,  be  a slave  to  his  promise.’’  And  Danglars  sighed  as 
M.  Cavalcanti  had  done  half  an  hour  before. 

“Bravo!”  cried  Morcerf,  as  the  scene  closed.  Danglars  be- 
gan to  look  suspiciously  at  Morcerf,  when  some  one  came  and 
whispered  a few  words  to  him.  “I  shall  soon  return,”  said  the 
banker  to  Monte-Cristo  ; “ wait  for  me.  I shall,  perhaps,  have 
something  to  say  to  you.” 

When  Danglars  entered,  he  was  visibly  agitated.  Monte-Cristo 
observed  it  particularly,  and,  by  a look  asked  the  banker  for  an 
explanation.  “ I have  just  received  my  mail  from  Greece,”  said 
Danglars. 

“How  is  King  Otho?”  asked  Albert,  in  the  most  sprightly 
tone.  Danglars  cast  another  suspicious  look  toward  him  without 
answering,  and  Monte-Cristo  turned  away  to  conceal  the  expres- 
sion of  pity  which  passed  over  his  features,  but  which  was  gone  in 
a moment.  “ We  shall  go  together,  shall  we  not  ? ” said  Albert 
to  the  count. 

“ If  you  like,”  replied  the  latter. 

Albert  advanced  toward  Eugenie,  smiling.  Meanwhile,  Dang- 
lars, stooping  to  Monte-Cristo’ s ear,  said  : “ Your  advice  was  ex- 
cellent, there  is  a whole  history  connected  with  the  names  Fernand 
and  Janina.” 

“ Indeed  ! ” said  Monte-Cristo.  u Yes,  I will  tell  you  all ; but 
take  away  the  young  man  ; I cannot  endure  his  presence.” 

“ He  is  going  with  me.  Shall  I send  the  father  to  you  ? ” 

“Immediately.” 

“Very  well.”  The  count  made  a sign  to  Albert ; they  bowed 
to  the  ladies,  and  took  their  leave  ; Albert  perfectly  indifferent  to 
Mdlle.  Danglars’  contempt,  Monte-Cristo  reiterating  his  advice 
to  Mdme.  Danglars  on  the  prudence  a banker’s  wife  should  exer- 
cise in  providing  for  the  future,  M,  Cavalcanti  remained  master 
of  the  field. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


347 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

haydee’s  story. 

Scarcely  had  the  count’s  horses  cleared  the  angle  of  the  boule- 
vard, than  Albert,  burning  towards  the  count,  burst  into  a loud  fit 
of  laughter — much  too  loud,  in  fact,  not  to  give  the  idea  of  its  be- 
ing rather  forced  and  unnatural.  “Well!’*  said  he,  “I  will 
ask  you  the  same  question  which  Charles  IX.  put  to  Catharine  de 
Medicis,  after  the  massacre  of  Saint  Bartholomew.  * How  have  I 

played  my  little  part  ? ’ ” “ To  what  do  you  allude  ? ” asked 

Monte-Cristo. 

««  To  the  installation  of  my  rival  at  M.  Danglar’s ! ” 

“ What ! do  you  think  Cavalcanti  is  paying  his  addresses  ? ” 

••  I am  certain  of  it ; his  languishing  looks  and  modulated  tones 
fully  proclaim  hi»  intentions.  He  aspires  to  the  hand  of  the  proud 

Eugenie.” “ What  does  that  signify,  so  long  as  they  favor 

your  suit?” 

“ But  it  is  not  the  case,  my  dear  count ; on  the  contrary  I am 
repulsed  on  all  sides.” 

“ But  the  father  has  the  greatest  regard  possible  for  you,”  said 
Monte-Cristo. 

“He?  oh,  no!  he  has  plunged  a thousand  daggers  into  my 
heart  ; tragedy-weapons,  I own,  which,  instead  of  wounding, 
sheath  their  points  in  their  own  handles,  but  daggers  which  he 
nevertheless  believed  to  be  real  and  deadly.  I will  engage  that 
before  a week  is  past  the  door  will  be  closed  against  me.” 

“ You  are  mistaken,  my  dear  viscount.  I am  charged  with  the 
commission  of  endeavoring  to  induce  your  father  to  make  some 
definite  arrangement  with  the  baron.”- “ By  whom  ? ” 

“ By  the  baron  himself.” “ Oh!  ” said  Albert,  with  all  the 

cajolery  of  which  he  was  capable.  “You  surely  will  not  do  that, 
my  dear  count  ?” 

“Certainly  I shall,  Albert,  as  I have  promised  to  do  it.” 

“Well!  ” said  Albert,  with  a sigh,  “ it  seems  you  are  determined 
to  marry  me.” 

“ I am  determined  to  try  and  be  on  good  terms  with  everybody, 
at  a*l  events,”  said  Monte-Cristo. 

7hey  both  went  into  the  house  ; the  drawing-room  was  lighted 
up- 'they  entered  it.  “Tea,  Baptistin,”  said  the  count.  Baptis- 


34* 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTG. 


tin  left  the  room  without  waiting  to  answer,  and  in  two  seconds 
reappeared,  bringing  on  a salver  all  that  his  master  had  ordered, 
ready  prepared,  and  appearing  to  have  sprung  from  the  ground, 
iike  the  repasts  in  fairytales.  " Really,  my  dear  count,’  * said 
Morcerf,  " what  I admire  in  you  is,  not  so  much  your  riches,  for 
perhaps  there  are  people  even  wealthier  than  yourself,  nor  is  it 
only  your  wit, — but  it  is  your  manner  of  being  served,  without 
any  questions,  in  a moment,  in  a second  ; it  is  as  if  they  guessed 
what  you  wanted  by  your  manner  of  ringing,  and  made  a point 
of  keeping  everything  you  can  possibly  desire  in  constant  readi- 
ness/’  “ What  you  say  is  perhaps  true  : they  know  my 

habits.” 

" Ah ! but  what  do  I hear ! ” and  Morcerf  inclined  his  head  to- 
ward the  door,  through  which  sounds  seemed  to  issue  resembling 
those  of  a guitar. 

My  dear  viscount,  you  are  fated  to  hear  music  this  evening ; 
you  have  only  escaped  from  the  piano  of  Mademoiselle  Danglars 

to  be  attacked  by  the  guzla  of  Haydee.” " Haydee  ! what 

an  adorable  name  ! Are  there,  then,  really  women  who  bear  the 
name  of  Haydee  anywhere  but  in  Byron’s  poems?  ” 

"Certainly  there  are.  Haydee  is  a very  uncommon  name  in 
France,  but  it  is  common  enough  in  Albania  and  Epirus  ; it  is  as 
if  you  said,  for  example,  Chastity,  Modesty,  Innocence, — it  is  a 

kind  of  baptismal  name,  as  you  Parisians  call  it.” “ Oh,  that  is 

charming!”  said  Albert;  "are  there  any  more  slaves  to  be  had 
who  bear  this  beautiful  name  ? ’* 

"Undoubtedly.” "Really,  count,  you  do  nothing,  and  have 

nothing  like  other  people*  The  slave  of  Monte-Cristo ! why,  it 
is  a rank  of  itself  in  France:  and  from  the  way  in  which  you 
lavish  money,  it  is  a place  that  must  C*  worth  a hundred  thou- 
sand francs  a-year.” 

"A  hundred  thousand  francs!  the  poor  girl  originally  pos- 
sessed much  more  than  that ; she  was  born  to  treasures,  in  com- 
parison with  which  those  recorded  would  seem  but  poverty.” 

" She  must  be  a princess,  then  ? ” 

" You  are  right ; and  she  is  one  of  the  greatest  in  her  country, 
too?  ” 

" I thought  so.  But  how  did  it  happen  that  such  a great 

princess  became  a slave  ? ” 

" How  was  it  that  Dionysius  the  Tyrant  became  a schoolmas- 
ter? The  fortune  of  war,  my  dear  viscount, — the  caprice  of 
fortune  ; that  is  the  way  in  which  these  things  are  to  be  accounted 
for.”  . 

" Aiid  is  her  name  a secret  ? ” " As  regards  the  generality 

of  mankind  it  is;  but  not  for  you,  my  dear  viscount.  You  know 
the  history  of  the  pacha  of  Janina,  do  you  not?” 

"Of  Ali  Tebelen  ! oh!  yes!  it  was  in  his  service  that  my 
father  made  his  fortune/’ 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


349 


•'True,  I had  forgotten  that.” 

•'Well!  what  is  Haydee  to  Ali  Tebelen?  " Merely  his 
daughter.” 

44  What?  the  daughter  of  Ali  Pacha?” 

« Of  Ali  Pacha  and  the  beautiful  Vasiliki.” 

" And  your  slave  ? ” “ Yes.” 

" But  how  did  she  become  so?  ” 

«•  Why,  simply  from  the  circumstance  of  my  having  bought  her 
one  day,  as  I was  passing  through  the  slave  market  at  Constanti- 
nople.” 

“ Wonderful ! really,  my  dear  count,  you  seem  to  throw  a sort 
of  magic  influence  over  all  in  which  you  are  concerned  ; when 
listening  to  you,  existence  no  longer  seems  reality,  but  a waking 
dream.  Now,  I am  perhaps  going  to  make  an  imprudent  and 
thoughtless  request,  but  I may  venture  to  ask  you  this  favor:  present 
me  to  your  princess.” 

44 1 will  do  so  ; but  on  two  conditions.” 

44 1 accept  them  at  once.” 

44  The  first  is,  that  you  will  never  tell  any  one  that  I have 
granted  the  interview.” 

44  Very  well,”  said  Albert,  extending  his  hand  ; " I swear  I will 
not.” 

44  The  second  is,  that  you  will  not  tell  her  that  your  father  ever 
served  hers.” 

44  I give  you  my  word  that  I will  not.” 

44  Enough,  viscount ; I know  you  to  be  a man  of  honor.”  The 
count  again  struck  the  gong.  Ali  reappeared.  44  Tell  Haydee,” 
said  he,  44  that  I will  take  coffee  with  her,  and  give  her  to  under- 
stand that  I desire  permission  to  present  one  of  my  friends  to  her.’ 
Ali  bowed  and  left  the  room.  44  Now,  understand  me,”  said  the 
count,  44  no  direct  questions,  my  dear  Morcerf ; if  you  wish  to 

know  anything,  tell  me,  and  I will  ask  her.” 44  Agreed.”  Ali 

reappeared  for  the  third  time,  and  drew  back  the  tapestried  hang, 
ing  which  concealed  the  door,  to  signify  to  his  master  and  Albert 
that  they  were  at  liberty  to  pass  on.  44  Let  us  go  in,”  said  Monte- 
Cristo. 

Albert  passed  his  hand  through  his  hair,  and  twisted  his  mous- 
tache, then,  satisfied  as  to  his  personal  appearance,  followed  the 
count  into  the  room,  the  latter  having  previously  resumed  his  hat 
and  gloves.  Ali  was  stationed  as  a kind  of  advanced  guard,  and 
the  door  was  kept  by  three  French  maids,  commanded  by 
Myrtho.  Haydee  was  awaiting  her  visitors  in  the  first  room  of  her 
apartments,  the  drawing-room.  Her  large  eyes  were  dilated  with 
surprise  and  expectation,  for  it  was  the  first  time  that  any  man, 
except  Monte-Cristo,  had  been  accorded  an  entrance  into  her  pres- 
ence. She  was  sitting  on  a sofa  placed  in  an  angle  of  the  room, 
with  her  legs  crossed  under  her  in  the  Eastern  fashion,  in  a nest  in 
the  rich  Indian  silks  which  enveloped  her.  Near  was  the  instru* 


350 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTSTO. 


inent  cm  which  she  had  just  been  playing  ; it  was  elegantly 
fashioned,  and  worthy  of  its  mistress.  On  perceiving  Monte- 
Cristo,  she  rose  welcomed  him  with  a kind  of  smile  peculiar  to 
herself,  expressive  at  once  of  the  most  implicit  obedience  and  also 
of  the  deepest  love.  Monte-Cristo  advanced  toward  her  and  ex* 
tended  his  hand,  which  she,  as  usual,  raised  to  her  lips. 

Albert  had  proceeded  no  farther  than  the  door,  where  he  re- 
mained rooted  the  spot,  being  completely  fascinated  by  the  sight 
of  such  surpassing  beauty,  beheld,  as  it  was,  for  the  first  time, 
find  of  which  an  inhabitant  of  more  northern  climes  could  form  no 
adequate  idea. 

44  Whom  do  you  bring  ? " asked  the  girl,  in  Romaic,  of  Monte- 
Cristo  ; 44  is  it  a biend,  a brother,  a simple  acquaintance  or  an. 
enemy.'" 

‘•A  friend,"  said  Monte-Cristo,  in  the  same  language. 

44  What  is  his  name  ? " 

41  Count  Albert ; it  is  the  same  man  whom  I rescued  from  the 
hands  of  the  banditti  at  Rome." 

44  In  what  language  would  you  like  me  to  converse  with  him  ? " 

44  You  will  speak  in  Italian,"  said  he.  Then,  turning  towards 
Albert, — 44  It  is  a pity  you  do  not  understand  either  ancient  or 
modern  Greek,  both  of  which  Haydee  speaks  so  fluently ; the 
the  poor  child  will  be  obliged  to  talk  to  you  in  Italian,  which  will 
give  you  but  a very  false  idea  of  her  powers  of  conversation." 
The  count  made  a sign  to  Haydee  to  address  his  visitor.  14  Sir," 
said  she  to  Morcerf,  44  you  are  most  welcome  as  the  friend  of  my 
lord  and  master."  This  .was  said  in  excellent  Tuscan,  and  with 
that  soft  Roman  accent  which  makes  the  language  of  Dante  as 
sonorous  as  Homer’s.  Then,  turning  to  Ali,  she  directed  him 
to  bring  coffee  and  pipes ; and  when  he  had  left  the  room  to 
execute  the  orders  of  his  young  mistress,  she  beckoned  Albert 
to  approach  nearer  to  her.  Monte-Cristo  and  Morcerf  drew  their 
seats  toward  a small  table,  on  which  were  arranged  music,  draw- 
ings, and  vases  of  flowers.  Ali  then  entered,  bringing  coffee  and 
chibouques  ; as  to  Baptistin,  this  portion  of  the  building  was  pro- 
hibited to  him.  Albert  refused  the  pipe  which  the  Nubian  offered 
him.  44  Oh,  take  it — take  it,"  said  the  count ; 44  Haydee  is  almost 
as  civilized  as  a Parisian  ; the  smell  of  an  Havanna  is  disagreea- 
ble to  her,  but  the  tobacco  of  the  East  is  a most  delicious  perfume, 
you  know.’* 

Ali  left  the  room.  The  cups  of  coffee  were  all  prepared,  with 
the  addition  of  a sugar-glass,  which  had  been  brought  for  Albert- 
Monte-Cristo  and  Haydee  took  the  liquor  in  the  original  Arabian 
manner,  that  is  to  say,  without  sugar.  Haydee  took  the  por- 
celain cup  in  her  little  slender  fingers,  and  conveyed  it  to  her 
mouth  with  all  the  innocent  naivete  of  a child  when  eating  or 
drinking  something  which  it  likes.  At  this  moment  two  women en* 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  351 

forth,  bringing  salvers  filled  with  ices  and  sherbet,  which  they 
placed  on  two  small  tables  appropriated  to  that  purpose. 

“ On  what  subject  shall  I converse  with  her?  ” said  Albert,  in 
a low  tone  to  Monte-Cristo. 

“Just  what  you  please  ; you  may  speak  of  her  country  and  of 
her  youthful  reminiscences  ; or,  if  you  like  it  better,  you  can  talk 
of  Rome,  Naples,  or  Florence/* 

“ Oh ! ” said  Albert,  “ it  is  of  no  use  to  be  in  the  company  of  a 
Greek  if  one  converses  as  with  a Parisian  ; let  me  speak  to  her  of 
the  East.  At  what  age  did  you  leave  Greece,  signora  ? ” asked 
he. “ I left  it  when  I was  but  five  years  old,”  replied  Haydee. 

“And  how  far  back  into  the  past  do  your  recollections  ex- 
tend ? ” 

“ I could  scarcely  walk  when  my  mother,  who  was  called  BasF 
liki,  which  means  royal,”  said  the  girl,  proudly,  “took  me  by  the 
hand,  and  after  putting  in  our  purse  all  the  money  we  possessed, 
we  went  out,  both  covered  with  veils,  to  solicit  alms  for  the  pris- 
oners, saying,  * He  who  giveth  to  the  poor  lendeth  to  the  Lord. 
Then,  when  our  purse  was  full,  we  returned  to  the  palace,  and 
without  saying  a word  to  my  father,  we  sent  it  to  the  convent, 
where  it  was  divided  amongst  the  prisoners.” 

“ Count/’  said  Albert,  in  a low  tone  to  Monte-Cristo,  “ allow 
the  signora  to  tell  me  something  of  her  history.  You  prohibited 
my  mentioning  my  father’s  name  to  her,  but  perhaps  she  will 
allude  to  him  of  her  own  accord  in  the  course  of  the  recital,  and 
you  have  no  idea  how  delighted  I should  be  to  hear  our  name 
pronounced  by  such  beautiful  lips.”  Monte-Cristo  turned  to 
Haydee,  and  with  an  expression  which  commanded  her  to  pay 
the  most  implicit  attention  to  his  words,  he  said  in  Greek  : — “ Tell 
us  the  fate  of  your  father ; but  neither  the  name  of  the  traitor  nor 
the  treason.”  Haydee  sighed  deeply,  and  a shade  of  sadness 
clouded  her  beautiful  brow. 

“ Oh  ! then  I remember  as  if  it  were  but  yesterday  sitting  under 
the  sycamore-trees,  on  the  borders  of  a lake.  Under  the  oldest 
and  thickest  of  these  trees,  reclining  on  cushions,  sat  my  father ; 
my  mother  was  at  his  feet,  and  I,  childlike,  amused  myself  by 
playing  with  his  long  white  beard,  which  descended  to  his  gridle, 
or  with  the  diamond-hilt  of  the  scimitar  attached  to  his  girdle. 
Then  from  time  to  time  there  came  to  him  an  Albanian,  who  said 
something,  to  which  I paid  no  attention,  but  which  he  always  an- 
swered in  the  same  tone  of  voice,  either  ‘ Kill,*  or  ‘ Pardon.’  ” 

“So  young,”  said  Albert,  forgetting  at  the  moment  the  count’s 
command  that  he  should  ask  no  questions  of  the  slave  herself,  “ is 
it  possible  that  you  can  have  known  what  suffering  is  except  by 
name  ? * * 

Haydee  answered  his  remark  with  a melancholy  smile.  “You 
wish  me,  then,  to  relate  the  history  of  my  past  sorrows?”  saic* 

she. 


352 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR/STO. 


44 1 beg  you  to  do  so/*  replied  Albert. 

41  Well ! I was  but  four  years  old,  when  one  night  I was  suddenly 
awoke  by  my  mother.  We  were  in  the  palace  of  Janina  ; she 
snatched  me  from  the  cushions  on  which  I was  sleeping,  and  on 
opening  my  eyes  I saw  hers  were  filled  with  tears.  She  took  me 
away  without  speaking.  When  I saw  her  weeping  I began  to  cry 
too.  4 Silence,  child ! * said  she.  At  other  times,  in  spite  of 
maternal  endearments  or  threats,  I had,  with  a child’s  caprice, 
been  accustomed  to  indulge  my  feelings  of  sorrow  or  anger  by 
crying  as  much  as  I felt  inclined  ; but  on  this  occasion  there  was 
an  intonation  of  such  extreme  terror  in  my  mother’s  voice  when 
she  enjoined  me  to  silence,  that  I ceased  crying  as  soon  as  her 
command  was  given.  She  bore  me  rapidly  away.  I saw  then 
that  we  were  descending  a large  staircase ; around  us  were  all  my 
mother’s  servants  carrying  trunks,  bags,  ornaments,  jewels,  purses 
of  gold,  with  which  they  were  hurrying  away  in  the  greatest  dis- 
traction. Behind  the  women  came  a guard  of  twenty  men,  armed 
with  long  guns  and  pistols,  and  dressed  in  the  costume  which  the 
Greeks  have  assumed  since  they  have  again  become  a nation. 
You  may  imagine  there  was  something  startling  and  ominous,” 
said  Haydee,  shaking  her  head,  and  turning  pale  at  the  mere  re- 
membrance of  the  scene,  44  in  this  long  file  of  slaves  and  women 
only  half-aroused  from  sleep,  or  at  least,  so  they  appeared  to  me, 
who  was  myself  scarcely  awake.  Here  and  there,  on  the  walls  of 
the  staircase,  were  reflected  gigantic  shadows,  which  trembled  in 
the  flickering  light  of  the  pine-torches,  till  they  seemed  to  reach  to 
the  vaulted  roof  above. 

64  4 Quick!  ’ said  a voice  at  the  end  of  the  gallery.  This  voice 
made  every  one  bow  before  it,  resembling  in  its  effect  the  wind 
passing  over  a field  of  corn,  by  its  superior  strength  forcing  every 
ear  to  yield  obeisance.  As  for  me,  it  made  me  tremble.  This 
voice  was  my  father’s.  He  marched  the  last,  clothed  in  his  splen^ 
did  robes,  and  holding  in  his  hand  the  rifle  with  which  your  em- 
peror presented  him.  He  was  leaning  on  the  shoulder  of  his  fav- 
orite Selim,  and  he  drove  us  all  before  him,  as  a shepherd  would 
his  straggling  flock.  My  father,”  said  Haydee,  raising  her  head, 
C4  was  that  illustrious  man  known  in  Europe  under  name  of  Ali 
Tebelen,  pacha  of  Janina,  and  before  whom  Turkey  trembled.” 

Albert,  without  knowing  why,  started  on  hearing  these  words 
pronounced  with  such  a haughty  and  dignified  accent ; it  appeared 
to  him  as  if  there  was  something  supernaturally  gloomy  and  terri- 
ble in  the  expression  which  gleamed  from  the  brilliant  eyes  of  Hay- 
dee at  this  moment  ; she  appeared  like  a Pythoness  evoking  a 
spectre,  as  she  recalled  to  his  mind  the  remembrance  of  the  Jar- 
ful death  of  this  man,  to  the  news  of  which  all  Europe  had  listened 
with  horror.  44  Soon,”  said  Haydee,  44  we  halted  on  our  march, 
and  found  ourselves  on  the  borders  of  a lake.  My  mother  pressed 
to  her  throbbing  heart,  and,  at  the  distance  of  a few  paces,  I 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


353 


$aw  my  father,  who  was  glancing  anxiously  around.  Four  mar- 
ble steps  led  down  to  the  water’s  edge,  and  below  them  was  a 
boat  floating  on  the  tide.  From  where  we  stood  I could  see,  in 
the  middle  of  the  lake,  a large  black  mass  ; it  was  the  kiosk  to 
which  we  were  going.  This  kiosk  appeared  to  me  to  be  at  a con- 
siderable distance,  perhaps  on  account  of  the  darkness  of  the 
night,  which  prevented  any  object  from  being  more  than  partially 
discerned.  We  stepped  into  the  boat.  I remember  well  that  the 
oars  made  no  noise  whatever  in  striking  the  water,  and  when  I 
leaned  over  to  ascertain  the  cause,  I saw  they  were  muffled  with 
the  sashes  of  our  Palikares.  Besides  the  rowers,  the  boat  con- 
tained only  the  women,  my  father,  mother,  Selim,  and  myself. 
The  Palikares  had  remained  on  the  shore  of  the  lake,  ready  to 
cover  our  retreat ; they  were  kneeling  on  the  lowest  of  the  marble 
steps,  and  in  that  manner  intended  making  a rampart  of  the  three 
others,  in  case  of  pursuit.  Our  bark  flew  before  the  wind.  ‘Why 
does  the  boat  go  so  fast?’  asked  I of  my  mother.” 

“‘Silence,  child!  Hush!  we  are  fleeing.’  I did  not  under- 
stand. Why  should  my  father  flee  ? — he,  the  all-powerful — before 
whom  others  were  accustomed  to  flee — who  had  taken  for  his 
device — 

“ * They  hate  ?net  then  they  fear  met  * 

“ It  was,  indeed,  a flight  which  my  father  was  trying  to  effect. 

I have  been  told  since,  that  the  garrison  of  the  castle  of  Janina, 
fatigued  with  long  service  had  treated  with  the  Seraskier  Kourchid, 
sent  by  the  sultan  to  gain  possession  of  the  person  of  my  father  ; 
it  was  then  that  Ali  Tebelen  took  the  resolution  of  retiring  (after 
having  sent  to  the  sultan  a French  officer  in  whom  he  reposed 
great  confidence)  to  the  asylum  which  he  had  long  before  pre- 
pared for  himself,  and  which  he  called  katafhygion , or  the 
refuge.” 

“ And  this  officer,”  asked  Albert,  “ do  you  remember  his  name, 
signora?”  Monte-Cristo  exchanged  a rapid  glance  with  the  girl, 
which  was  quite  unperceived  by  Albert.  “ No,”  said  she,  “ I do 
not  remember  it  just  at  this  moment ; but  if  it  should  occur  to  me 
presently,  I will  tell  you.”  Albert  was  on  the  point  of  pronounc- 
his  father’s  name,  when  Monte-Cristo  gently  held  up  his  finger  in 
token  of  reproach  ; the  young  man  recollected  his  vow,  and  was 
silent. 

“ It  was  towards  this  kiosk  that  we  were  rowing.  ground- 
floor,  ornamented  with  arabesques,  bathing  its  terraces  in  the  wa- 
ter, and  another  floor,  looking  on  the  lake,  was  all  which  was  visi-s 
ble  to  the  eye.  But  beneath  the  ground-floor,  stretching  out  into 
the  island,  was  a large  subterraneous  cavern,  to  which  my  mother, 
myself,  and  the  women  were  conducted.  In  this  place  were  to- 
gether 60,000  purses  and  200  barrels  ; the  purses  contained  25,- 
23 


354 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


000,000  of  money  in  gold,  and  the  barrels  were  filled  with  30,000 
pounds  of  gunpowder. 

“ Near  these  barrels  stood  Selim,  my  father’s  favorite,  whom  I 
mentioned  to  you  just  now.  It  was  his  duty  to  watch  day  and 
night,  a lighted  fuse,  and  he  had  ordens  to  blow  up  all — kiosk, 
guards,  women,  gold,  and  Ali  Tebelen  himself,  at  the  first  signal 
given  by  my  father.  I remember  well  that  the  slaves,  convinced 
of  the  precarious  tenure  on  which  they  held  their  lives,  passed 
whole  days  and  nights  in  praying,  crying,  and  groaning.  As  for 
me,  I can  never  forget  the  pale  complexion  and  black  eye  of  the 
young  soldier  ; and  whenever  the  angel  of  death  summons  me  to 
another  world,  I am  quite  sure  I shall  recognize  Selim.  I cannot 
tell  you  how  long  we  remained  in  this  state  ; at  that  period  I did 
not  even  know  what  time  meant ; sometimes,  but  very  rarely,  my 
father  summoned  me  and  my  mother  to  the  terrace  of  the  palace  \ 
these  were  my  hours  of  recreation  ; I,  who  never  saw  anything  in 
the  dismal  cavern  but  the  gloomy  countenances  of  the  slaves  and 
the  lintstock  of  Selim.  My  father  was  endeavoring  to  pierce  with 
his  eager  looks  the  remotest  verge  of  the  horizon,  examining  atten- 
tively every  black  speck  which  appeared  on  the  lake,  whilst  my 
mother,  reclining  by  his  side,  rested  her  head  on  his  shoulder,  and 
I played  at  his  feet,  admiring  everything  I saw  with  that  unsophis- 
ticated innocence  of  childhood  which  throws  a charm  round  objects 
insignificant  in  themselves,  but  which  in  its  eyes  are  invested  with 
the  greatest  importance.  The  heights  of  Pindus  towered  above 
us  ; the  castle  of  Janina  rose  white  and  angular  from  the  blue  wa- 
ters of  the  lake,  and  the  immense  masses  of  black  vegetation 
which,  viewed  in  the  distance,  gave  the  idea  of  lichens  clinging  to 
the  rocks,  were,  in  reality,  gigantic  fir-trees  and  myrtles. 

“ One  morning  my  father  sent  for  us  ; my  fnother  had  been  cry- 
ing all  the  night,  and  was  very  wretched  ; we  found  the  pacha 
calm,  but  paler  than  usual.  * Basiliki,'  said  he  to  my  mother, 
trembling  perceptibly,  ‘ the  instant  approaches  which  will  decide 
everything.  In  the  space  of  half-an-hour  we  shall  know  the  em- 
peror’s answer.  Go  into  the  cavern  with  Haydee.’ * I will  not 

quit  you,'  said  Basiliki ; ‘ if  you  die,  my  lord,  I will  die  with  you.’ 
* Go  to  Selim!’  cried  my  father.  ‘Adieu!  my  lord,’ mur- 
mured my  mother,  determining  quietly  to  await  the  approach  of 
death.  ‘ Take  away  Basiliki ! ’ said  my  father  to  his  Palikares. 

“ As  for  me,  I had  been  forgotten  in  the  general  confusion  ; I 
ran  towards  Ali  Tebelen  ; he  saw  me  hold  out  my  arms  to  him 
and  he  stooped  down  and  pressed  my  forehead  with  his  lips.  Oh ! 
how  distinctly  I remember  that  kiss ! it  was  the  last  he  ever  gave 
me,  and  I feel  as  if  it  were  still  warm  on  my  forehead.  On  de- 
scending, we  distinguished  through  the  lattice-work  several  boats 
which  were  gradually  becoming  more  distinct  to  our  view.  At  first 
they  appeared  like  black  specks,  and  now  they  looked  like  birds 
skimming  the  surface  of  the  waves.  During  this  time,  in  the 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


355 


kiosiv,  At  the  feet  of  my  father,  were  seated  twenty  Palikares,  con- 
cealed from  view  by  an  angle  of  the  wall,  and  watching  with  eager 
eyes  the  arrival  of  the  boats ; they  were  armed  with  their  long  guns 
inliad  with  mother-of-pearl  and  silver,  and  cartridges,  in  great  num- 
bers, were  lying  scattered  on  the  floor  ; my  father  looked  at  his 
watch,  and  paced  up  and  down  with  a countenance  expressive  of 
the  greatest  anguish.  This  was  the  scene  which  presented  itself  to 
my  view  when  I quitted  my  father  after  that  last  kiss.  My  mother 
and  I traversed  the  gloomy  passage  leading  to  the  cavern.  Selim 
was  still  at  his  post,  and  smiled  sadly  on  us  as  we  entered.  We 
fetched  our  cushions  from  the  other  end  of  the  cavern,  and  sat 
down  by  Selim.  In  great  dangers  the  devoted  ones  cling  to  each 
other ; and,  young  as  I was,  I quite  understood  that  some  immi« 
nent  danger  was  hanging  over  our  heads. 

It  was  about  four  o’clock  in  the  afternoon ; and  although  the 
day  was  brilliant  out  of  doors,  we  were  enveloped  in  the  gloomy 
darkness  of  the  cavern.  One  single  solitary  light  was  burning 
there,  and  it  appeared  like  a star  set  in  a heaven  of  blackness  ; it 
was  Selim’s  flaming  lance.  My  mother  was  a Christian,  and  she 
prayed.  Selim  repeated  from  time  to  time  these  sacred  words  : — 
4 God  is  great  ! * However,  my  mother  had  still  some  hope.  As 
she  was  coming  down,  she  thought  she  recognized  the  French 
officer  sent  to  Constantinople,  and  in  whom  my  father  placed  so 
much  confidence,  for  he  knew  that  all  the  soldiers  of  the  French 
emperor’were  naturally  noble  and  generous.  She  advanced  some 
steps  towards  the  staircase,  and  listened.  4 They  are  approach. 

ing,’  said  she  ; 4 perhaps  they  bring  us  peace  and  liberty  ! * 

4 What  do  you  fear,  Basiliki?  * said  Selim,  in  a voice  at  once  so 
gentle  and  yet  so  proud  ; 4 if  they  do  not  bring  us  peace  we  will 
give  them  war  ; if  they  do  not  bring  life  we  will  give  them  death.* 

44  4 My  child,*  said  Basiliki,  4 may  God  preserve  you  from  ever 
wishing  for  that  death  which  to-day  you  so  much  dread  ! ’ Then, 
whispering  to  Selim,  she  asked  what  were  his  master’s  orders.  4 If 
he  send  me  his  poniard,  it  will  signify  that  the  emperor’s  intentions 
are  not  favorable,  and  I am  to  set  fire  to  the  powder  ; if,  on  the 
contrary,  he  send  me  his  ring,  it  will  be  a sign  that  the  emperoi 
pardons  him  and  I will  extinguish  the  match  and  leave  the  maga- 
zine untouched.* 

4 4 4 My  friend,*  said  my  mother,  4 when  your  master’s  order  ar. 
rives,  if  it  is  the  poniard  which  he  sends,  instead  of  despatching  us 
by  that  horrible  death  which  we  both  so  much  dread,  you  will  mer- 
cifully kill  us  with  this  same  poniard,  will  you  not  ? ’ 4 Yes, 

Basiliki,'  replied  Selim,  tranquilly. 

44  Suddenly  we  heard  loud  cries;  we  listened : they  were  cries 
of  joy  ; the  name  of  the  French  officer  who  had  been  sent  to  Con- 
stantinople resounded  on  all  sides  amongst  our  Palikares  ; it  was 
evident  that  he  brought  the  answer  of  the  emperor,  and  that  it  was 
favorable.  Soon  a figure  appeared  in  the  gray  twilight  at  the  en* 


35 6 THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

trance  of  the  cave.  4 Who  are  you  ? * cried  Selim.  4 But  whoever 
you  may  be,  I charge  you  not  to  advance  another  step/ — * Long  live 
the  emperor!  ’ said  the  figure.  4 He  grants  a full  pardon  to  the 
Vizier  Ali  ; and  not  only  gives  him  his  life,  but  restores  to  him  his 
fortune  and  his  possessions/  My  mother  uttered  a cry  of  joy,  and 
clasped  me  to  her  bosom.  4 Stop  ! ’ said  Selim,  4 if  you  come  from 
Ali  himself,  you  know  what  you  were  charged  to  remit  to  me  ? ’ 

4 Yes/  said  the  messenger,  4 and  I bring  you  his  ring/  Place 

the  object  which  I desire  to  see  in  the  ray  of  light  which  shines 
there,  and  retire  whilst  I examine  it/ — — 4 Be  it  so/  said  the  en- 
voy ; and  he  retired,  after  having  first  deposited  the  token  agreed 
on  in  the  place  pointed  out  to  him  by  Selim. 

Selim,  still  holding  in  his  hand  the  lighted  match,  walked  to- 
ward the  opening,  and  aided  by  the  faint  light  which  streamed  in, 
picked  up  the  token. 

44  4 It  is  well ! * said  he,  kissing  it ; 4 it  is  my  master's  ring  ! ' 
And  throwing  the  match  on  the  ground,  he  trampled  on  it  and  ex* 
tinguished  it.  The  messenger  uttered  a cry  of  joy,  and  clapped 
his  hands.  At  this  signal  four  soldiers  of  the  Seraskier  Kourchid 
suddenly  appeared,  and  Selim  fell  pierced  by  five  blows.  Each 
man  had  stabbed  him  separately  ; and,  intoxicated  by  their  crime, 
though  still  pale  with  fear,  they  sought  all  over  the  cavern  to  dis- 
cover if  there  was  any  fear  of  fire,  after  which  they  amused  them- 
selves by  rolling  on  the  bags  of  gold.  At  this  moment  my  mother 
seized  me  in  her  arms,  and  bounding  lightly  along  numerous  turn- 
ings and  windings,  known  only  to  ourselves,  she  arrived  at  a pri- 
vate staircase  of  the  kiosk,  where  was  a scene  of  frightful  tumult 
and  confusion.  The  lower  rooms  were  entirely  filled  with  our 
enemies.  Just  as  my  mother  was  on  the  point  of  pushing  open  a 
small  door,  we  heard  the  voice  of  the  pacha  sounding  in  a loud 
and  threatening  tone.  My  mother  applied  her  eye  to  the  crack 
between  the  boards  ; I luckily  found  a small  opening,  which  af- 
forded me  a view  of  the  apartment  and  what  was  passing  within. 
4 What  do  you  want?  * said  my  father  to  some  people  who  were 
holding  a paper  inscribed  with  characters  of  gold.  4 What  we 
want/  replied  one  of  them,  4 is  to  communicate  to  you  the  will  of 

his  highness.  Do  you  see  this  firman?’ 4 1 do,’  said  my 

father.  4 Well,  read  it ; he  demands  your  head.' 

44  My  father  answered  with  a loud  laugh,  which  was  more  fright- 
ful than  even  threats  would  have  been,  and  he  had  not  ceased 
when  two  reports  of  a pistol  were  heard  ; he  had  fired  them  him- 
self, and  had  killed  two  men.  The  Palikares,  prostrated  at  my 
father's  feet,  now  sprang  up  and  fired  ; and  the  room  was  filled 
with  fire  and  smoke.  At  the  same  instant  the  firing  began  on  the 
other  side,  and  the  balls  penetrated  the  boards  all  round  us.  Oh  ! 
how  noble  did  the  grand  vizier,  my  father,  look  at  that  moment, 
in  the  midst  of  the  balls,  his  scimitar  in  his  hand,  and  his  face 
blackened  with  the  powder  of  his  enemies ! and  how  he  terrified 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  C/US  TO.  35? 

them,  even  then,  and  made  them  fly  before  him  ! ‘ Selim ! Selim  ! 
cried  he,  4 guardian  of  the  fire,  do  your  duty ! * 

“ ‘ Selim  is  dead  ! ' replied  a voice  which  seemed  to  come  from 
the  depths  of  the  earth,  ‘and  you  are  lost,  Ali ! ’ At  the  same 
moment  an  explosion  was  heard,  and  the  whole  flooring  suddenly 
gave  way  ; my  father  fell  on  one  knee,  and  at  the  same  moment 
twenty  hands  were  thrust  forth,  armed  with  sabres,  pistols,  and 
poniards — twenty  blows  were  instantaneously  directed  against  one 
man,  and  my  father  disappeared  in  a whirlwind  of  fire  and  smoke 
kindled  by  these  demons,  and  which  seemed  like  hell  itself  open- 
ing beneath  his  feet.  I felt  myself  fall  to  the  ground  ; it  was  my 
mother  who  had  fainted.” 

Haydee’s  arms  fell  by  her  side,  and  she  uttered  a deep  groan, 
at  the  same  time  looking  toward  the  count,  as  if  to  ask  if  he  were 
satisfied  with  her  obedience  to  his  commands.  Monte-Cristo  rose 
and  approached  her  ; he  took  her  hand,  and  said  to  her  in  Ro- 
maic, “ Calm  yourself,  my  dear  child,  and  take  courage  in  re- 
membering that  there  is  a God  who  will  punish  traitors.” 

“ It  is  a frightful  story,  count,”  said  Albert,  terrified  at  the  pale- 
ness of  Haydee’s  countenance,  “and  I reproach  myself  now,  for 
having  been  so  cruel  and  thoughtless  in  my  request.” 

“Oh,  it  is  nothing!”  said  Monte-Cristo.  Then,  patting  the 
girl  on  the  head,  he  continued, — “ Haydee  is  very  courageous  ; 
and  she  sometimes  even  finds  consolation  in  the  recital  of  her  mis- 
fortunes.” 

“Because,  my  lord,”  said  Haydee,  eagerly,  “my  miseries  re- 
call to  me  the  remembrance  of  your  goodness.” 

Albert  looked  at  her  with  curiosity,  for  she  had  not  yet  related 
what  he  most  desired  to  know,  namely,  how  she  had  become  the 
slave  of  the  count.  Haydee  saw  at  a glance  the  same  expression 
pervading  the  countenances  of  her  two  auditors ; she  exclaimed, 
— “ When  my  mother  recovered  her  senses  we  were  before  the 
seraskier.  ‘ Kill  me,’  said  she,  ‘ but  spare  the  honor  of  the  widow 

of  Ali.’ It  is  not  me  to  whom  you  must  address  yourself,1 

said  Kourchid. 

“ « To  whom,  then  ? 1 To  your  new  master.' 

“ 4 Who  and  where  is  he  ? ' ‘ He  is  here/ 

“And  Kourchid  pointed  out  one  who  had  more  than  any  con- 
tributed to  the  death  of  my  father,”  said  Haydee,  in  a tone  of 
chastened  anger.  “Then,”  said  Albert,  “ you  became  the  prop- 
erty of  this  man?  ” “ No,”  replied  Haydee,  “he  did  not  dare 

to  keep  us,  so  we  were  sold  to  some  slave-merchants  who  were 
going  to  Constantinople.  We  traversed  Greece,  and  arrived, 
half  dead,  at  the  imperial  gates.  They  were  surrounded  by  a 
crowd  of  people,  who  opened  a way  for  us  to  pass,  when,  sud- 
denly, my  mother,  having  directed  her  eye  to  the  object  which 
was  attracting  their  attention,  uttered  a piercing  cry  and  fell  to  the 


358 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


ground,  pointing,  as  she  did  so,  to  a head  which  was  placed  ovef 
the  gates,  and  beneath  which  were  inscribed  these  words, — 

‘This  is  the  head  of  Ali  Tebelen,  Pasha  of  Janina.' 

" I cried  bitterly,  and  tried  to  raise  my  mother  from  the  earth, 
but  she  was  dead ! I was  taken  to  the  slave-market,  and  was 
purchased  by  a rich  Armenian.  He  caused  me  to  be  instructed, 
gave  me  masters,  and  when  1 was  thirteen  years  of  age  he  sold  me 
to  the  Sultan  Mahmoud.” 

“Of  whom  I bought  her,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  “as  I told  you, 
Albert,  with  the  emerald  which  formed  a match  to  the  one  I had 
made  into  a box  for  the  purpose  of  holding  my  hasheesh.” 

“ Oh  ; you  are  good  ! you  are  great ! my  lord  ! ” said  Hay  dee, 
kissing  the  count’s  hand,  “ and  I am  very  fortunate  in  belonging 
to  such  a master.”  Albert  remained  quite  bewildered  with  all 
that  he  had  seen  and  heard.  “ Come ! finish  your  cup  of  coffee/' 
said  Monte-Cristo  ; “the  story  is  ended." 


CHAPTER  L. 

“WE  HEAR  FROM  JANINA.'* 

Villefort  retired  to  his  study,  where  he  received  about  two 
hours  afterwards  the  following  letter  from  Epinay  : 

“ After  all  the  disclosures  made  this  morning,  M.  Noirtier  de 
Villefort  must  see  the  utter  impossibility  of  any  alliance  being 
formed  between  his  family  and  that  of  Epinay.  M.  d' Epinay 
must  say  that  he  is  shocked  and  astonished  that  M.  de  Ville- 
fort, who  appeared  aware  of  all  the  circumstances,  should  not 
have  anticipated  him  in  this  announcement.” 

This  harsh  letter,  coming  as  it  did  from  a man  generally  so 
polite  and  respectful,  struck  a mortal  blow  at  the  pride  of  Ville- 
fort. Hardly  had  he  read  the  letter  when  his  wife  entered. 

M.  de  Villefort’ s communications  on  the  subject  were  very 
limited  and  concise  ; he  told  her,  in  fact,  that  an  explanation  had 
taken  place  between  M.  Noitier,  M.  d’ Epinay,  and  himself,  and 
that  the  marriage  of  Valentine  <md  Franz  would  consequently  be 
broken  off.  This  was  an  awkward  and  unpleasant  thmg  to  have 
to  report  to  those  who  were  awaiting  her  return  im  the  chamber  of 
her  father-in-law.  She  therefore  contented  herself  with  saying 
that  M.  Noirtier  having,  at  the  commencement  of  the  discussion, 
been  attacked  by  a sort  of  apoplectic  fit,  the  affair  would  neces- 
sarily be  deferred  for  some  days  longer.  The  next  day  M. 
Noirtier  sent  for  the  notary  ; the  first  will  was  torn  up  and  a second 
made,  in  which  he  left  the  whole  of  his  fortune  to  Valentine,  on 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTG. 


359 


condition  that  she  should  never  be  separated  from  him.  It  was 
then  generally  reported  that  Mdlle.  Villefort,  the  heiress  of  the 
marquis  and  marchioness  de  Saint-Meran,  had  regained  the  good 
graces  of  her  grandfather,  and  that  she  would  ultimately  be  in 
possession  of  an  income  of  300,000  livres.  Whilst  all  the  pro- 
ceedings relative  to  the  dissolution  of  the  marriage-contract  were 
being  carried  on  at  the  house  of  Villefort,  Monte-Cristo  had  paid 
his  visit  to  Morcerf,  who,  in  order  to  lose  no  time  in  responding  to 
M.  Danglars’  wishes,  and  at  the  same  time  to  pay  all  due  defer- 
ence to  his  position  in  society,  donned  his  uniform  of  lieutenant- 
general,  which  he  ornamented  with  all  his  crosses,  and,  thus  at- 
tired, ordered  his  finest  horses  and  drove  to  Danglars*.  He  was 
balancing  his  monthly  accounts,  and  it  was,  perhaps,  not  the 
most  favorable  moment  for  finding  him  in  his  best  humor. 

41  Well,  baron,”  said  he,  “here  I am  at  last;  sometime  has 
elapsed  since  our  plans  were  formed,  and  they  are  not  yet  exe- 
cuted.” Morcerf  paused  at  these  words,  quietly  waiting  till  the 
cloud  should  have  dispersed  which  had  gathered  on  the  brow  of 
Danglars,  and  which  he  attributed  to  his  silence  ; but,  on  the 
contrary,  to  his  great  surprise,  it  grew  darker  and  darker. 

Morcerf,  with  a forced  smile,  rose,  and,  making  a low 
bow  to  M.  Danglars,  said:  “ M.  le  Baron,  I have  the  honor  of 

asking  you  the  hand  of  Mdlle.  Eugenie  Danglars  for  my  son, 
Viscount  Albert  de  Morcerf.** 

But  Danglars,  instead  of  receiving  this  address  in  the  favorable 
manner  which  Morcerf  had  expected,  knit  his  brow,  and  without 
inviting  the  count,  who  was  still  standing,  to  take  a seat,  he  said : 
Count,  it  will  be  necessary  to  reflect  before  I give  you  an  anwer." 

“ What  do  you  mean?  ’* “ I mean,  that  I have  a good  rea- 

son, but  that  it  is  difficult  to  explain.’* 

fi  You  must  be  aware,  at  all  events,  that  it  is  impossible  for  me 
to  understand  motives  before  they  are  explained  to  me  ; but  one 
thing  at  least  is  clear,  which  is,  that  you  decline  allying  yourself 
with  my  family.” 

“ No,  sir,”  said  Danglars  ; " I merely  suspended  my  decision, 
that  is  all.” 

“ My  dear  Danglars,”  said  Morcerf,  “ we  have  been  acquainted 
for  many  years,!  and  consequently  we  ought  to  make  some  al- 
lowance for  each  other’s  failings.  You  owe  me  an  explanation, 
and  really  it  is  but  fair  that  I should  know  what  circumstance  has 
occurred  to  deprive  my  son  of  your  favor.” 

“ It  is  from  no  personal  ill-feeling  toward  the  viscount,  that  is  all 
I can  say,  sir,”  replied  Danglars,  who  resumed  his  insolent  man- 
ner as  soon  as  he  perceived  that  Morcerf  was  a little  softened 
and  calmed  down.  “ And  toward  whom  do  you  bear  this  personal 
ill-feeling,  then  ? ” said  Morcerf,  turning  pale  with  anger.  The 
expression  of  the  count’s  face  had  not  remained  unperceived  by 
the  banker  ; he  fixed  on  him  a look  of  greater  assurance  than  be- 


360  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

fore,  and  said:  “ You  may,  perhaps,  be  better  satisfied  that  I 

should  not  go  farther  into  particulars.'’ 

A trembling,  caused  by  suppressed  rage,  shook  the  whole 
frame  of  the  count,  and  making  a violent  effort  over  himself,  he 
said  : “ I have  a right  to  insist  on  your  giving  me  an  explanation. 

Is  it  Mdme.  de  Morcerf  who  has  displeased  you?  is  it  my  fortune 
which  you  find  insufficient  ? is  it  because  my  opinions  differ  from 
yours?  ” 

“ Nothing  of  the  kind,  sir,”  replied  Danglars  : there  is  no  hurry. 
My  daughter  is  only  seventeen  years  old,  and  your  son  twenty-one. 
Whilst  we  wait,  time  will  be  progressing,  events  will  succeed  each 
other  ; things  which  in  the  evening  look  dark  and  obscure,  appear 
but  too  clearly  in  the  light  of  morning,  and  sometimes  the  utter- 
ance of  one  word,  or  the  lapse  of  a single  day,  will  reveal  the 
most  cruel  calumnies.” 

“ Calumnies,  did  you  say,  sir  ?”  cried  Morcerf,  turning  livid 
with  rage.  “ Does  any  one  dare  to  slander  me?” 

“ Enough,  sir,”  said  Morcerf,  “we  will  speak  no  more  on  the 
subject.”  And  clenching  his  gloves  with  passion,  he  left  the 
apartment. 

The  next  morning,  directly  he  awoke,  Danglars  asked  for  the 
newspapers  ; they  were  brought  to  him  : he  laid  aside  three  or 
four,  and  at  last  fixed  on  the  Impartial:  the  paper  of  which 
Beauchamp  was  editor.  He  hastily  tore  off  the  cover,  opened  the 
journal  with  nervous  precipitation,  arriving  at  the  miscellaneous 
intelligence,  he  stopped,  with  a malicious  smile,  at  a paragraph 
headed  11  Janina.”  11  Very  good!”  observed  Danglars,  after 
having  read  the  paragraph;  “here  is  a little  article  on  Colonel 
Fernand,  which,  if  I am  not  mistaken,  would  render  the  expla- 
nation which  the  count  de  Morcerf  required  of  me  perfectly  un- 
necessary.” 

At  the  same  moment,  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Albert  de 
Morcerf,  dressed  in  a black  coat  buttoned  up  to  his  chin,  might 
have  been  seen  walking  with  a quick  and  agitated  step  in  the 
direction  of  Monte-Cristo’s  house  in  the  Champs  Elysees.  When 
he  presented  himself  at  the  gate  the  porter  informed  him  that  the 
count  had  gone  out  about  half  an  hour  previously. 

Albert  left,  intending  to  take  a turn  on  foot.  As  he  was  pass- 
ing, he  thought  he  saw  the  count’s  horses  standing  at  Gossett's 
shooting-gallery  ; he  approached,  and  soon  recognized  the  coach- 
man. “Is  your  master  shooting  in  the  gallery?”  said  Mor- 
cerf. 

“ Yes,  sir,”  replied  the  coachman.  Whilst  he  was  speaking, 
Albert  had  heard  the  report  of  two  or  three  pistol-shots.  He 
entered,  and  on  his  way  met  the  waiter.  “ Excuse  me,  M.  le 
Vicomte,”  said  the  lad  ; " but  will  you  have  the  kindness  to  waH 
a moment  ? ” 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO,  361 


*'What  for,  Philip?”  asked  Albert,  who,  being  a constant 
visitor  there,  did  not  understand  this  opposition  to  his  entrance. 

“ Because  the  person  who  is  now  in  the  gallery  prefers  being 
alone,  and  never  practises  in  the  presence  of  any  one.” 

“ Not  even  before  you,  Philip?  Then  who  loads  his  pistol?" 

“ His  servant,  a black.” 

“ It  is  he,  then.” 

“ Do  you  know  this  gentleman  ? ” 

“Yes,  and  I am  come  to  look  for  him;  he  is  a friend  of 
mine.” 

“ Oh ! that  is  quite  another  thing,  then.  I will  go  immediately 
and  inform  him  of  your  arrival.”  And  Philip,  urged  by  his  own 
curiosity,  entered  the  gallery  ; a second  afterward,  Monte-Cristo 
appeared  on  the  threshold.  “ I ask  your  pardon,  my  dear 
count,”  Albert,  “for  following  you  here  ; and  I must  first  tell  you 
that  it  was  not  the  fault  of  your  servants  that  I did  so,  I alone 
am  to  blame  for  the  indiscretion.  I went  to  your  house,  and  they 
told  me  you  were  out,  but  that  they  expected  you  home  at  ten 
o’clock  to  breakfast.  I was  walking  about  in  order  to  pass  away 
the  time  till  ten  o’clock,  when  I caught  sight  of  your  carriage  and 

horses.” “ What  you  have  just  said  induces  me  to  hope  that 

you  intend  breakfasting  with  me.” 

“ No,  thank  you,  I am  thinking  of  other  things  besides  break- 
fast, just  now  ; perhaps  we  may  take  that  meal  at  a later  hour 
and  in  worse  company.” “What  on  earth  are  you  talking 

“ I am  to  fight  to-day.” 

“Yes,  I understand  that,  but  what  is  the  quarrel?  People 
fight  for  all  sorts  of  reasons,  you  know.” 

“ I fight  in  the  cause  of  honor.” 

“ Ah  ! that  is  something  serious.” 

“ So  serious,  that  I come  to  beg  you  to  render  me  a serv- 
ice : be  my  second.” 

“ That  is  a serious  matter,  and  we  will  not  discuss  it  here  ; let 
us  speak  of  nothing  till  we  get  home.  Ali,  bring  me  some  water.” 
The  count  turned  up  his  sleeves,  and  passed  into  the  little  vesti- 
bule where  the  gentlemen  were  accustomed  to  wash  their  hands 
after  shooting.  “ Come  in,  M.  le  Vicomte,”  said  Philip  in  a low 
tone,  “and  I will  show  you  something  droll.”  Morcerf  entered, 
and  instead  of  the  usual  mark,  he  perceived  some  playing-cards 
fixed  against  the  wall.  At  a distance  Albert  thought  it  was  a 
complete  suit,  for  he  counted  from  the  ace  to  the  ten.  “Ah! 
ah !”  said  Albert,  “I  see  you  were  preparing  for  a game  of 

cards." “ No,”  said  the  count,  “ I was  making  a suit  of 

cards.  Those  are  really  aces  and  twos  which  you  see,  but  my 
balls  have  turned  them  into  threes,  fives,  sevens,  eights,  nines, 
and  tens.”  Albert  approached.  In  fact,  the  balls  had  actually 
pierced  the  cards  in  the  exact  places  which  the  painted  pips 


{62 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


urould  otherwise  have  occupied,  the  lines  and  distances  being  as* 
regularly  kept  as  if  they  had  been  ruled  with  pencil.  "The 
deuce  ! ” said  Morcerf. 

"What  would  you,  my  dear  viscount?”  said  Monte-Cristo, 
wiping  his  hands  on  the  towel  which  Ali  had  brought  him;  "I 
must  occupy  my  leisure  moments  in  some  way  or  other.  But 
come,  I am  waiting  for  you.”  Both  then  entered  Monte-Cristo’ s 
carriage,  which  in  the  course  of  a few  minutes  deposited  them 
safely  at  No.  30.  Monte-Cristo  took  Albert  into  his  study,  and 
pointing  to  a seat,  placed  another  for  himself.  "Now  let  us  talk 
the  matter  over  quietly,”  said  the  count.  " With  whom  are  you 

going  to  fight ! ” " With  Beauchamp.” 

"There  appeared  in  his  journal  last  night but  wait,  and 

read  for  yourself.”  And  Albert  handed  over  the  paper  to  the 
count,  who  read  as  follows  : — 

"A  correspondent  at  Janina  informs  us  of  a fact  of  which 
until  now  we  had  remained  in  ignorance.  The  castle  which 
formed  the  protection  of  the  town  was  sold  to  the  Turks  by  a 
French  officer  named  Fernand,  in  whom  the  Grand  Vizier,  All 
Tebelen,  had  reposed  the  greatest  confidence.” 

" Well ! ” said  Monte-Cristo,  " what  does  it  signify  to  you  if  the 
castle  of  Janina  was  given  up  by  a French  officer?  ” 

" It  signifies  to  my  father,  the  Count  of  Morcerf,  whose  Chris- 
tian name  is  Fernand.  He  fought  for  the  independence  of  the 
Greeks,  and  hence  arises  the  calumny.” 

" Now,  just  tell  me  who  the  devil  should  know  in  France  that 
the  officer  Fernand  and  the  Count  de  Morcerf  are  one  and  the 
same  person?  and  who  cares  now  about  Janina,  which  was  taken 
as  long  ago  as  the  year  1822  or  1823  ? ” 

"That  just  proves  the  blackness  of  the  perfidy  ; they  have  al- 
lowed all  this  time  to  elapse,  and  then,  all  of  a sudden,  rake  up 
events  which  have  been  forgotten,  to  furnish  materials  for  scandal, 
in  order  to  tarnish  the  lustre  of  our  high  position.  I inherit  my 
father’s  name,  and  I do  not  choose  that  the  shadow  of  disgrace 
should  darken  it.  I am  going  to  Beauchamp,  in  whose  journal 
this  paragraph  appears,  and  I shall  insist  on  his  retracting  the 
assertion  before  two  witneses.” 

"Then  let  me  offer  one  word  of  advice.” 

" Do  so,  then,  but  let  it  be  the  last.” 

" Do  not  take  any  witnesses  with  you  when  you  go  to  Beau- 
champ— then  the  affair  will  rest  between  you  and  Beauchamp.” 

" I believe  you  are  right,  I will  go  alone.” 

" Go  ; but  you  would  do  better  still  by  not  going  at  all.” 

" But  if,  in  spite  of  all  my  precautions,  I am  at  last  obliged  to 
fight,  will  you  not  be  my  second  ? ” 

"My  dear  viscount,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  gravely,  " you  must 
have  seen  before  to-day  that  at  all  times  and  in  all  places  I nave 
been  at  your  disposal,  but  the  services  which  you  have  just  de* 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  36* 

^landed  of  me  is  one  which  it  is  out  of  my  power  to  render 
you.1’ 

“ We  will  say  no  more  about  it,  then.  Good-bye,  count.*’  Mor- 
cerf  took  his  hat,  and  left  the  room.  He  found  his  chariot  at  the 
door,  and  doing  his  utmost  to  restrain  his  anger,  he  drove  at  once 
to  Beauchamp’s  house.  Beauchamp  was  in  his  office.  It  was 
one  of  those  gloomy,  dusty-looking  apartments,  such  as  journal- 
ists’ offices  have  always  been  from  the  time  immemorial.  The 
servant  announced  M.  Albert  de  Morcerf.  Beauchamp  repeated 
the  name  to  himself,  as  though  he  could  scarcely  believe  that  he 
had  heard  right,  and  then  gave  orders  for  him  to  be  admitted. 
Albert  entered.  Beachamp  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise  on 
seeing  his  friend  leap  over  and  trample  under  foot  all  the  news- 
papers which  were  strewed  about  the  room.  “ Here!  here!  my 
dear  Albert!  ” said  he,  holding  out  his  hand  to  the  young  man. 
“ Are  you  out  of  your  senses,  or  do  you  come  peaceably  to  take 
breakfast  with  me  ? Try  and  find  a seat — there  is  one  by  that 
geranium,  which  is  the  only  thing  in  the  room  to  remind  me  that 
there  are  other  leaves  in  the  world  besides  leaves  of  paper.” 

“ Beauchamp,”  said  Albert,  “ it  is  of  your  journal  that  I come 
to  speak.” 

*4  Indeed  ! what  do  you  wish  to  say  about  it  ? ” 

•*  I desire  that  a statement  contained  in  it  should  be  rectified,  in 
an  article  headed  4 Janina.*  ” 

“ Is  the  officer  alluded  to  a relation  of  yours,  then  ? ” demanded 
the  journalist. 

“He  is  my  father,”  said  Albert — “ M.  Fernand  Mondego, 
Count  de  Morcerf,  an  old  soldier,  who  has  fought  in  twenty  bat- 
tles, and  whose  honorable  scars  they  would  denounce  as  badges 
of  disgrace.” 

y Is  it  your  father?”  said  Beauchamp  ; “ that  is  quite  another 
thing.  Then  I can  well  understand  your  indignation,  my  dear 
Albert.  I will  reperuse  ; ” and  he  read  the  paragraph  for  the 
third  time,  laying  a stress  on  each  word  as  he  proceeded.  “ But 
the  paper  nowhere  indentifies  this  Fernand  with  your  father.” 

" No  ; but  the  connection  will  be  seen  by  others,  and  therefore 
I will  have  the  article  contradicted.”  At  the  word  I will , Beau- 
champ steadily  raised  his  eyes  to  Albert’s  countenance,  and  then 
as  gradually  lowering  them,'  he  remained  thoughtful  for  a few  mo- 
ments. 

“ The  matter  is  worth  looking  into,  and  I will  take  pains  to  in- 
vestigate the  matter  thoroughly.” 

“ But  what  is  there  to  investigate,  sir?”  said  Albert,  enraged 

beyond  measure  at  Beauchamp’s  last  remark.  “ If  you  do  not 

believe  that  it  is  my  father,  say  so  immediately  ; and  if,  on  the 

contrary,  you  believe  it  to  be  him,  state  your  reasons  for  doing 
’ * 

,5Wai$  a moment— no  threats,  if  you  please,  M.  Fernand 


364  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


Mondego,  Vicomte  de  Morcerf  ; I never  allow  them  from  my 
enemies,  and  therefore  shall  not  put  up  with  them  from  my  friends, 
The  article  was  not  inserted  by  me — I was  not  even  aware  of  it ; 
but  you  have,  by  the  step  you  have  taken,  called  my  attention  to 
the  paragraph  in  question,  and  it  will  remain  until  it  shall  be 
either  contradicted  or  confirmed  by  some  one  who  has  a right  to 
do  so.” 

“Sir,”  said  Albert,  rising,  “ I will  do  myself  the  honor  of  send* 
ing  my  seconds  to  you.” 

“ Now,  I am  going  to  put  a question  to  you,  and  one  very  much 
to  the  purpose,  too.  Do  you  insist  on  this  retractation  so  far  as  to 
kill  me  if  1 do  not  make  it,  although  I have  affirmed  on  my  honor, 
that  I was  ignorant  of  the  thing  with  which  you  charge  me,  and 
although  I still  declare  that  it  is  impossible  for  any  one  but  you  to 
recognize  the  Count  de  Morcerf  under  the  name  of  Fernand? ” 

“I  maintain  my  original  resolution.” “Very  well,  my  dear 

sir  ; I require  three  weeks*  preparation  ; at  the  end  of  that  time  I 
shall  come  and  say  to  you,  ' The  assertion  is  false,  and  I retract 
it,’  or,  • The  assertion  is  true,*  when  I shall  immediatety  draw  the 
sword  from  its  sheath,  or  the  pistols  from  the  case,  whichever  you 
please.” 

“Three  weeks!  ” cried  Albert ; “ they  will  pass  as  slowly  as 
three  centuries  when  I am  all  the  time  suffering  dishonor.” 

“To-day  is  the  29th  of  August;  the  21st  of  September  will, 
therefore,  be  the  conclusion  of  the  term  agreed  on,  and  till  that  time 
arrives — and  it  is  the  advice  of  a gentleman  which  I am  about  to 
give  you — till  then  we  will  refrain  from  growling  and  barking  like 
two  dogs  chained  within  sight  of  each  other.” 


CHAPTER  LI. 

THE  LEMONADE. 

Morrel  was  very  happy.  M.  Noirtier  had  just  sent  for  him 
and  he  was  in  such  haste  to  know  the  reason  of  his  doing  so  that 
he  had  not  stopped  to  take  a hack,  placing  infinitely  more  depend- 
ence on  his  own  two  legs  than  on  the  four  legs  of  a cab-horse.  On 
arriving  at  the  house,  Morrel  was  not  even  out  of  breath,  for  love 
lends  wings  to  our  desires. 

The  old  servant  introduced  Morrel  by  a private  entrance,  closed 
the  door  of  the  study,  and  soon  the  rustling  of  a dress  announced 
the  arrival  of  Valentine.  She  looked  marvellously  beautiful  in 
her  deep  mourning  dress,  and  Morrel  experienced  such  intense 
delight  in  gazing  upon  her  that  he  felt  as  if  he  could  almost  have 
dispensed  with  the  conversation  of  her  grandfather.  But  the  easy- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  365 


tha^r  of  the  old  man  was  heard  rolling  along  the  floor,  and  he 
soon  made  his  appearance  in  the  room. 

“ M.  Morrel,”  said  Valentine  to  the  young  man,  who  was  re- 
garding her  with  the  most  intense  interest,  “ my  grandfather,  M. 
Noirtier,  intends  leaving  this  house,”  said  she,  “and  Barrois  is 
looking  out  suitable  apartments  for  him  in  another.  I shall  not 
leave  my  grandfather,  that  is  an  understood  thing  between  us. 
My  apartment  will  be  close  to  his.  Now,  M.  de  Villefort  must 
either  give  his  consent  to  this  plan  or  his  refusual ; in  the  first  case, 
I shall  leave  directly  ; and  in  the  second,  I shall  await  my 
majority,  which  will  be  completed  in  about  ten  months.  Then  I 
shall  be  free,  I shall  have  an  independent  fortune,  and ” 

“And  what?”  demanded  Morrel. 

“ And  with  my  grandfather’s  consent  I shall  fulfil  the  promise 
which  I have  made  you.”  Valentine  pronounced  these  few  last 
words  in  such  a low  tone,  that  nothing  but  Morrel’ s intense  inter- 
est in  what  she  was  saying  could  have  enabled  him  to  hear  them. 
“ Once  under  my  grandfather’s  roof,  M.  Morrel  can  visit  me  in 
the  presence  of  my  good  and  worthy  protector,  if  we  still  feel  that 
the  union  we  contemplated  will  be  likely  to  insure  our  future  com- 
fort and  happiness  ; in  that  case  I shall  expect  M.  Morrel  to  come 
and  claim  me  at  my  own  hands.  But,  alas  ! I have  heard  it  said 
that  hearts  inflamed  by  obstacles  to  their  desire  grow  cold  in  time 
of  security  ; I trust  we  shall  never  find  it  so  in  our  experience ! ” 

“ Oh  ! ” cried  Morrel,  almost  tempted  to  throw  himself  on  his 
knees  before  Noirtier  and  Valentine,  and  to  adore  them  as  two 
superior  beings,  “ what  have  I ever  done  in  my  life  to  merit  such 

unbounded  happiness?  ” “ Until  that  time,”  continued  the  girl, 

in  a calm  and  self-possessed  tone  of  voice,  “ we  will  conform  to 
circumstances,  and  be  guided  by  the  wishes  of  our  friends,  so  long 
as  those  wishes  do  not  tend  finally  to  separate  us  ; in  one  word, 
and  I repeat  it,  because  it  expresses  all  I wish  to  convey, — we  will 
wait.” 

Noirtier  regarded  the  lovers  with  a look  of  ineffable  tenderness, 
whilst  Barrois,  who  had  remained  in  the  room  in  the  character  of 
a man  privileged  to  know  everything  that  passed,  smiled  on  the 
youthful  couple  as  he  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  bald  fore- 
head. “ How  hot  you  look,  my  good  Barrois  ! ” said  Valentine. 

“ Ah  ! I have  been  running  very  fast,  mademoiselle ; but  I 
must  do  M.  Morrel  the  justice  to  say  that  he  ran  still  faster.” 
Noirtier  directed  their  attention  to  a waiter,  on  which  was  placed 
a decanter  containing  lemonade  and  a glass.  The  decanter  was 
nearly  full,  with  the  exception  of  a little  already  drunk  by  M. 
Noirtier. 

“ Come,  Barrois,”  said  the  girl,  “ take  some  of  this  lemonade  ; 

I see  you  are  coveting  a good  draught  of  it.” “ The  fact  is,” 

said  Barrois,  “ I am  dying  with  thirst,  and  since  you  are  so  kind 
as  to  offer  it  me,  I cannot  say  I should  at  all  object  to  drinking 


366  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


your  health  in  a glass  of  it.’* “ Take  some,  then,  and  come 

back  immediately.”  Barrois  took  away  the  waiter,  and  hardly 
was  he  outside  the  door,  which,  in  his  haste,  he  forgot  to  shut,  than 
they  saw  him  throw  back  his  head  and  empty  to  the  very  dregs 
the  glass  which  Valentine  had  filled.  Valentine  and  Morrel  were 
exchanging  their  adieux  in  the  presence  of  Noirtier  when  a ring 
was  heard  at  the  door-bell.  It  was  the  signal  of  a visit.  Valen- 
tine looked  at  her  watch. 

“ It  is  past  noon,”  said  she,  “ I dare  say  it  is  the  doctor,  grand- 
papa. Barrois ! ” cried  Valentine,  “ Barrois  ! ” 

“I  am  coming,  mademoiselle,”  replied  he.  “ Barrois  will 
open  the  door  for  you,”  said  Valentine,  addressing  Morrel.  “ And 
now  remember  one  thing,  Mr.  Officer,  that  my  grandfather  com- 
mands you  not  to  take  any  rash  or  ill-advised  steps  which  would 
be  likely  to  compromise  our  happiness.” 

“ I promise  him  to  wait,”  replied  Morrel ; “ and  I will  wait.” 
At  this  moment  Barrois  entered.  “ Who  rang  ? ” asked  Valen- 
tine. 

“Doctor  d’Avrigny,"  said  Barrois,  staggering  as  if  he  would 
fall. 

“ What  is  the  matter,  Barrois  ? ” said  Valentine.  The  old  man 
did  not  answer,  but  looked  at  his  master  with  wild  staring  eyes. 

At  this  moment  M.  de  Villefort,  attracted  by  the  noise,  ap- 
peared on  the  threshold.  Morrel  relaxed  his  hold  of  Valentine, 
and  retreating  to  a distant  corner  of  the  room,  he  remained  half 
hidden  behind  a curtain.  Pale  as  if  he  had  been  gazing  on  a ser- 
pent, he  fixed  his  terrified  eye  on  the  agonized  sufferer. 

Noirtier,  burning  with  impatience  and  terror,  was  in  despair  at 
his  utter  inability  to  help  his  old  domestic,  whom  he  regarded 
more  in  the  light  of  a friend  than  a servant. 

Villefort  seemed  stupefied  with  astonishment,  and  remained 
gazing  intently  on  the  scene  before  him  without  uttering  a word. 
He  had  not  seen  Morrel.  After  a moment  of  dumb  contempla- 
tion, during  which  his  face  became  pale,  and  his  hair  seemed  to 
stand  on  end,  he  sprang  towards  door,  crying  out,  “Doctor! 
doctor ! come  instantly  ; pray  come  ! ” 

“Madame!”  cried  Valentine,  calling  her  step-mother,  and 
running  up-stairs  to  meet  her ; “ come  quick,  quick ! and  bring  your 
bottle  of  smelling-salts  with  you.” 

“What  is  the  matter?”  said  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  in  a harsh 
and  constrained  tone. 

“ Oh ! come  ! come  ” -Mdme.  de  Villefort  now  deliberately 

descended  the  staircase.  In  one  hand  she  held  her  handker- 
chief, with  which  she  appeared  to  be  wiping  her  face,  and  in  the 
other  a bottle  of  smelling-salts..  'Her  first  look  on  entering  the 
room  was  a Noirtier,  whose  face,  independent  of  the  emotion 
which  such  a scene  could  not  fail  of  producing,  proclaimed  him 
to  be  in  possession  of  his  usual  health  ; her  second  glance  was  at 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO  367 

the  dying  man.  She  turned  pale,  and  her  eye  passed  quickly  from 
the  servant,  and  rested  on  the  master. 

“ In  the  name  of  Heaven,  madame.”  said  Villefort,  44  where  is 
the  doctor?  He  was  with  you  just  now.  You  see  this  is  a fit  of 
apoplexy,  and  he  might  be  saved  if  he  could  but  be  bled  ! ” 

44  Grandpapa’s  bottle  of  lemonade  was  standing  just  by  his  side  ; 
poor  Barrois  was  very  thirsty,  and  was  thankful  to  drink  anything 
he  could  find.”  Mdme.  de  Villefort  started.  Noirtier  looked  at 
her  with  a glance  of  the  most  profound  scrutiny.  44  He  has  such 
a short  neck,”  said  she.  44  Madame,”  said  De  Villefort,  44  I ask 

where  is  M.  d’Avrigny?  In  God’s  name  answer  me!  ” 44  He 

is  with  Edward,  who  is  not  quite  well,”  replied  Mdme.  de  Ville- 
fort, no  longer  able  to  avoid  answering. 

Villefort  rushed  up-stairs  to  fetch  him  himself.  44  Take  this,’* 
said  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  giving  her  smelling-bottle  to  Valentine. 
44  They  will,  no  doubt,  bleed  him  ; therefore  I will  retire,  for  I can- 
not endure  the  sight  of  blood  ; ” and  she  followed  her  husband 
up-stairs.  Morrel  now  emerged  from  his  hiding-place,  where  he 
had  remained  quite  unperceived,  so  great  had  been  the  general 
confusion.  4 4 Go  away  as  quick  as  you  can,  Maximilian,”  said 
Valentine,  44  and  stay  till  I send  for  you.  Go.” 

Morrel  looked  towards  Noirtier  for  permission  to  retire.  The 
old  man,  who  had  preserved  all  his  usual  coolness,  made  a sign  to 
him  to  do  so.  The  young  man  pressed  Valentine’s  hand  to  his 
lips,  and  then  left  the  house  by  a back  staircase.  At  the  same 
moment  that  he  quitted  the  room,  Villefort  and  the  doctor  entered 
by  an  opposite  entrance.  Barrois  was  now  showing  signs  of  re- 
turning consciousness  ; the  crisis  seemed  past  ; a low  moaning 
was  heard,  and  he  raised  himself  on  one  knee.  D’Avrigny  and 
Villefort  laid  him  on  a couch. 

Spasm  after  spasm  coursed  through  him,  but  ended  suddenly. 
None  of  the  remedies  had  even  eased  him. 

"Dead?”  cried  Villefort,  44  and  so  soon?” 

44  Yes,”  said  the  doctor,  looking  at  the  corpse  before  him;  44  but 
that  ought  not  to  astonish  you  ; the  Saint-Merans  died  as  soon. 
People  die  very  suddenly  in  your  house,  M.  de  Villefort.” 

44  What ! ” cried  the  magistrate,  with  an  accent  of  horror  and 
consternation,  4 4 are  you  still  harping  on  that  terrible  idea?” 

44  Still,  sir  ; and  I shall  always  do  so,”  replied  D’Avrigny,  44  for 
it  has  never  for  one  instant  ceased  to  retain  possession  of  my 
mind  : and  that  you  may  be  quite  sure  I am  not  mistaken  this 
time,  listen  well  to  what  I am  going  to  say,  M.  de  Villefort.’  The 
magistrate  trembled  convulsively.  44  There  is  a poison  which  de- 
stroys life  almost  without  leaving  any  perceptible  traces.  I know 
it  well ; I have  studied  it  in  all  its  qualities  and  in  the  effects  which 
it  produces.  I recognized  the  presence  of  this  poison  in  the  cass 
of  Mdme.  de  Saint-Meran.  As  for  this  unfortunate  Barrois,  h* 
has  been  poisoned,”  said  D’Avrigny,  44  and  I will  maintain  this  at* 


J68  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR/STO. 


sertion  before  God  and  man.”  ViMefort  said  nothing,  but  be 
clasped  his  hands,  opened  his  haggard  eyes,  and,  overcome  with 
his  emotion,  sank  into  a chair. 

“ In  my  house  ! ” murmured  he,  44  in  my  house  ! ” 

“Come,  magistrate,”  said  M.  d’Avrigny,  “show  yourself  a 
man  ; as  an  interpreter  of  the  law,  do  honor  to  your  profession  by 
sacrificing  your  selfish  interests  to  it.” 

“ Do  you  then  suspect  any  one?  ” 

“ Well,  sir,  you  have  in  your  establishment,  or  in  your  family 
perhaps,  one  of  those  frightful  phenomena  of  which  each  century 
produces  only  one.  Locuste  and  Agrippina,  living  at  the  same 
time,  are  an  exception,  and  proves  the  determination  of  Provi- 
dence to  effect  the  entire  ruin  of  the  Roman  empire,  sullied  by  so 
many  crimes.  All  these  women  had  been,  or  were,  beautiful. 
The  same  flower  of  innocence  had  flourished,  or  was  still,  flourish- 
ing on  their  brow,  that  is  seen  on  the  brow  of  the  culprit  in  your 
house.”  Villefort  shrieked,  clasped  his  hands,  and  looked  at  the 
doctor  with  a supplicating  air.  But  the  latter  pursued  without 
pity. 

“ * Seek  whom  the  crime  will  profit,*  says  an  axiom  of  jurispru* 
dence.” 

“ Have  mercy  on  my  child,  sir  ! ’*  murmured  Villefort. 

“ You  see  it  is  yourself  who  have  first  named  her — you,  her 

father. “Have  pity  on  Valentine!  Listen!  it  is  impossible.  I 

would  as  willingly  accuse  myself!  Valentine,  whose  heart  is  pure  as 
a diamond  or  a lily.” 

“No  pity;  the  crime  is  flagrant.  She  herself  packed  all  the 
medicines  sent  to  Saint-Meran  ; and  Saint-Meran  is  dead.  Mdlle. 
de  Villefort  prepared  all  the  cooling  draughts  which  Madame  de 
Saint-Meran  took,  and  she  is  dead.  Mdlle.  de  Villefort  took  from 
the  hands  of  Barrois,  the  lemonade  which  M.  Noirtier  has  every 
morning,  and  he  has  escaped  only  by  a miracle.  She  is  the 
culprit ! — the  prisoner  ! Prosecutor,  I denounce  Mdlle.  de  Villefort ; 
do  your  duty.” 

Villefort  fell  on  his  knees. 

“ Listen  ! ” cried  he  ; “ pity  me,-  nelp  me  ! No,  my  daughter 
is  not  guilty.  I will  not  drag  my  daughter  before  a tribunal,  and 
give  her  up  to  the  executioner  ! The  bare  idea  would  kill  me, — 
would  drive  me  like  a madman  to  dig  my  heart  out  with  my  finger- 
nails ! And  if  you  were  mistaken,  doctor ! — if  it  were  not  my 
daughter ! — If  I should  come  one  day,  pale  as  a spectre,  and  say 
to  you,  * Assassin ! you  have  killed  my  child ! * Hold ! if  that 
should  happen,  although  I am  a Christian,  M.  d’Avrigny,  I should 
kill  myself.’* 

“Well,”  said  the  doctor,  after  a moment’s  silence;  “ I will 
wait.”  Villefort  looked  at  him  as  if  he  had  doubted  his  words. 
“Only,”  continued  M.  d’Avrigny,  with  a slow  and  solemn  tone, 
“ if  any  one  fails  ill  in  your  house,  if  you  feel  yourself  attacked/ 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  369 


do  not  send  for  me,  for  I will  come  no  more.  I will  consent  to 
share  this  dreadful  secret  with  you  ; but  I will  not  allow  shame 
and  remorse  to  grow  and  increase  in  my  conscience,  as  crime  and 
misery  will  in  your  house.” 

“Then  you  abandon  me,  doctor?” “Yes,  for  I ca»n  follow 

you  no  farther  ; and  I only  stop  at  the  foot  of  the  scaffold.  Some 
further  discovery  will  be  made,  which  will  bring  this  dreadful 
tragedy  to  a close.  Adieu  ! ” 

The  doctor,  without  shaking  hands  with  Villefort,  or  adding  a 
word  to  what  he  had  said,  went  out  amid  the  tears  and  lamenta- 
tions of  the  whole  household.  The  same  evening  all  Villefort’ s 
servants,  who  had  assembled  in  the  kitchen,  and  had  a long  con- 
sultation, came  to  tell  Mdme.  de  Villefort  they  wished  to  leave. 
No  entreaty,  no  proposition  of  increased  wages,  could  induce  them 
to  remain;  to  every  argument  they  replied,  “We  must  go,  for 
death  is  in  this  house.”  They  all  left,  in  spite  of  prayers  and  en- 
treaties, testifying  their  regret  at  leaving  so  good  a master  and  mis- 
tress, and  especially  Mdlle.  Valentine,  so  good,  so  kind,  and  so 
gentle.  Villefort  looked  at  Valentine  as  they  said  this.  She  was 
in  tears ; and,  strange  as  it  was,  in  spite  of  the  emotions  he  felt  at 
the  sight  of  these  tears,  he  looked  also  at  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  and 
it  p.ppeared  to  him  as  if  a slight  gloomy  smile  had  passed  over  her 
thin  lips,  like  those  meteors  which  are  seen  passing  inauspiciously 
between  two  clouds  in  a stormy  sky. 


CHAPTER  LII. 

THE  RETIRED  BAKER  AT  HOME. 

After  a satisfactory  chat  with  Danglars,  who  regarded  him  as 
a prospective  son-in-law,  Andrea  disguised  in  his  groom’s  livery 
to  go  to  Merrilmontant  Street.  He  found  the  retired  baker  Paille- 
tin’s  house  and  on  the  third  floor  he  found  a hare’s  foot,  which, 
by  the  hasty  ringing  of  the  bell,  it  was  evident  he  pulled  with  con- 
siderable ill-temper.  A moment  after,  Caderousse’s  face  appeared 
at  the  grating  in  the  door.  “Ah!  you  are  punctual,”  said  he,  as 
he  unbowed  the  door. 

. “ Confound  you  and  your  punctuality  ! ” said  Andrea,  throwing 
himself  into  a chair  in  a manner  which  implied  that  he  would 
rather  have  flung  it  at  the  head  of  his  host. 

“ Come,  come,  my  little  fellow,  don’t  be  angry.  See,  I have 
thought  about  you — look  at  the  good  breakfast  we  are  going  to 
have  ; nothing  but  what  you  are  fond  of.”  Andrea,  indeed,  in- 
haled the  scent  of  something  cooking,  which  was  not  unwelcome 
to  him,  hungry  as  he  was  ; it  was  that  mixture  of  fat  and  garlic 
peculiar  to  provincial  kitchens  of  an  inferior  order,  added  to  that 
M 


170 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


of  dried  fish,  and  above  all,  the  pungent  smell  of  musk  and 
cloves.  These  odors  escaped  from  two  deep  dishes,  which  were 
covered,  and  placed  on  a stove,  and  from  a copper  pan  placed  in 
an  old  'to n pot.  In  an  adjoining  room,  Andrea  saw  also  a toler- 
ably clean  table  prepared  for  two,  two  bottles  of  wine  sealed,  the 
one  with  green,  the  other  with  vellow,  a considerable  portion  of 
brandy  in  a decanter,  and  a measure  of  fruit  in  a cabbage-leaf, 
cleverly  arranged  on  an  earthenware  plate. 

44  What  do  you  think  of  it,  my  little  fellow  ? ” said  Caderousse. 
44  Ay  ! that  smells  good  ! you  know  1 used  to  be  a good  cook  ; do 
you  recollect  how  you  used  to  lick  your  fingers  ? You  were  among 
the  first  who  tasted  any  of  my  dishes,  and  I think  you  relished 
them  tolerably.’'  While  speaking,  Caderousse  went  on  peeling  a 
fresh  supply  of  onions. 

44  But,”  said  Andrea,  ill-temperedly,  44  if  it  was  only  to  break- 
fast with  you,  you  disturbed  me,  I wish  the  devil  had  taken  you ! ” 

44  My  boy,”  said  Caderousse,  sententiously,  44  one  can  talk  while 
eating.  And  then,  you  ungrateful  being  ! you  are  not  pleased  to 
see  an  old  friend?  I am  weeping  with  joy.”  He  was  truly  cry, 
ing,  but  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  say  whether  joy  or  tha 
onions  produced  the  greatest  effect  on  the  lachrymal  gland  of  the 
inn-keeper.  44  Hold  your  tongue,  hypocrite!”  said  Andrea* 
41  you  love  me.” 

44  Yes,  I do,  or  may  the  devil  take  me.  I know  it  is  a weak* 
ness,”  said  Caderousse,  44  but  it  overpowers  me.” 

44  Weil ! ” said  Andrea,  44  admitting  your  love,  why  do  you  wan* 
me  to  breakfast  with  you  ? ” 

44  That  I may  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you,  my  little  fellow.” 

44  What  is  the  use  of  seeing  me  after  we  have  made  all  oui 
arrangements?”— — 44  Eh!  dear  friend,”  said  Caderousse,  44  are 
wills  ever  made  without  codicils?  But  you  first  came  to  break- 
fast, did  you  not?  Well!  sit  down,  and  let  us  begin.  You  see  I 
am  obliged  to  economize,  in  case  your  prosperity  should  cease. 
Well,  my  friend,  fortune  is  inconstant,  as  said  the  chaplain  of  our — 
hem  ! — regiment.  I know  your  prosperity  is  great,  rascal ; you  are 
to  marry  the  daughter  of  Baron  Danglars  ? I might  as  well  say 
Count  Benedetto.  He  was  an  old  friend  of  mine,  and  if  he  had 
not  so  bad  a memory,  he  ought  to  invite  me  to  your  wedding,  see- 
ing he  came  to  mine.  Yes,  yes,  to  mine  ; forsooth  ! he  was  not  so 
proud  then  ; he  was  an  under-clerk  to  good  M.  Morrel.  I have 
dined  many  times  with  him  and  the  Count  ae  Morcerf ; so  you 
see,  I have  some  high  connections,  and  were  I to  cultivate  them  a 
little,  we  might  meet  in  the  same  drawing-rooms.  Meanwhile  let 
us  sit  down  and  eat.”  Caderousse  set  the  example,  and  attacked 
the  breakfast  with  good  appetite,  praising  each  dish  he  set  before 
his  visitor.  The  latter  seemed  to  have  resigned  himself : he  drew 
the  corks,  and  partook  largely  of  the  fish  with  the  garlic  and  oil. 
MAh!  compear,”  said  Caderousse,  44  you  &re  getting  on  bettei 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  37 1 

terms  with  your  old  landlord  ! ” “ Faith,  yes,”  replied  Andrea, 

whose  hunger  prevailed  over  every  other  feeling. 

“ So  you  like  it,  you  rogue  ? ” “ So  much  that  I wonder  how 

a man  who  can  cook  thus  can  complain  of  hard  living.” 

“ Do  you  see,”  said  Caderousse,  11  all  my  happiness  is  marred 
by  one  thought : that  I am  dependent  on  another,  one  who  have 
always  gained  my  own  livelihood  honestly.” 

“ Do  not  let  that  disturb  you,  I have  enough  for  two.” 

“No,  truly;  you  may  believe  me  if  you  will  ; at  the  end  of 
every  month  I am  tormented  by  remorse.  True  remorse  ; and, 
besides,  an  idea  had  struck  me.”  Andrea  shuddered  ; he  always 
did  so  at  Caderousse’s  ideas.  “It  is  miserable — do  you  see  ? — 

always  to  wait  till  the  end  of  the  month.” " Oh ! ” said  Andrea, 

philosophically,  determined  to  watch  his  companion  narrowly, 
“ does  not  life  pass  in  waiting?  Do  I,  for  instance,  fare  better> 
Well,  I wait  patiently,  do  I not?  ” 

“ If  I were  in  your  place — — ** 

“Well.” 

“ I would  realize — — ” 

“ How  would  you  realize  ?” 

“ I would  ask  for  six  months’  in  advance,  under  pretence  of  be- 
ing able  to  purchase  a farm,  then  with  my  six  months’  I werald 
decamp.” 

“ Well,  well,”  said  Andrea,  “ that  is  no  bad  thought.” 

“ My  dear  friend,”  said  Caderousse,  “ I have  formed  a plan/’ 
Caderousse’s  plans  alarmed  Andrea  still  more  than  his  ideas; 
ideas  were  but  the  germ,  the  plan  was  reality.  “ Let  me  see  your 
plan  ; “ I dare  say  it  is  a pretty  one.” 

“ Why  not?  Who  formed  the  plan  by  which  we  left  the  stone 
cage  of  Melm ! eh  ? was  it  not  I ? and  it  was  no  bad  one  I believe, 
since  here  we  are  ! 

“ I do  not  say,”  replied  Andrea,  “ that  you  never  make  a good 
one  ; but  let  us  see  your  plan.” 

“ Well,”  pursued  Caderousse,  “can  you  without  expending  one 
sou,  put  me  in  the  way  of  getting  fifteen  thousand  francs  ? No, 
fifteen  thousand  are  not  enough,  I cannot  again  become  an  honest 
man  with  less  than  thirty  thousand  francs.” 

“ No,”  replied  Andrea,  drily,  “no,  I cannot  ; though  you  shall 
have  your  five  hundred  francs,”  said  Andrea  ; “ but  it  is  very 

hard  foi\me,  my  poor  Caderousse — you  take  advantage ” 

“ Bah  ! ” said  Caderousse,  “ when  you  have  access  to  countless 
stores.”  One  would  have  said  Andrea  anticipated  his  companion’s 
words,  so  did  his  eye  flash  like  lightning,  but  it  was  but  for  a mo- 
ment. “ True,”  he  replied,  “ and  my  protector  is  very  kind.  I— 

I — I think Andrea  stopped  and  looked  around.  “You 

think ? Do  not  fear  ; pardi? tc  we  are  alone,” — ~,f  I think  I have 
discovered  my  father.” 

” Not  old  Cavalcanti  I 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


%72 

44  No  ! Caderousse,  it  is  Monte-Cristo.” 44  Bah  ! ” 

44  Yes,  you  understand,  that  explains  all.  He  cannot  acknowl- 
edge me  openly,  it  appears,  but  he  does  it  through  M.  Cavalcanti, 
and  gives  him  fifty  thousand  francs  for  it.” 

44  Fifty  thousand  francs  for  being  your  father!  I would  have 
done  it  for  half  that,  for  twenty  thousand,  for  fifteen  thousand  ; 
why  did  you  not  think  of  me,  ungrateful  man  ? ” 

44  Did  I know  anything  about  .it,  when  it  was  all  done  when  I 
was  out  there  ? ” 

4 * Ah  ! truly  ? ” 

44  By  his  will,  he  leaves  me  five  hundred  thousand  livres.” 

44  Are  you  sure  of  it?  ” 44  He  showed  it  me  ; but  that  is  not 

all — there  is  a codicil,  in  which  he  acknowledges  me.” 

“Oh!  the  good  father  ! the  honest  father!  ” said  Caderousse, 
twirling  a plate  in  the  air  between  his  two  hands.  “ And  your 
princely  father,  is  he  rich,  very  rich  ? ” 

14  The  other  day  a banker’s  clerk  brought  him  fifty  thousand 
francs  in  a portfolio  about  the  size  of  your  plate  ; yesterday  his 
banker  brought  him  a hundred  thousand  francs  in  gold.”  Cade- 
rousse was  filled  with  wonder  ; the  young  man’s  words  sounded 
to  him  like  metal ; and  he  thought  he  could  hear  the  rushing  of 
cascades  of  louis. 

“ How  I should  like  to  see  all  that ! ” cried  he  ; 44  how  beauti- 
ful it  must  be  ? ” 

44  It  is,  in  fact,  magnificent/’  said  Andrea. 

4e  And  does  he  not  live  in  the  Chanaps-Elysees?  ” 

44  Yes,  a fine  house  standing  alone,  between  a court-yard  and  a 
garden,  you  must  know  it.” 4 4 Possibly  ; but  it  is  not  the  ex- 

terior I care  for,  it  is  the  interior : what  beautiful  furniture  there 
must  be  in  it ! It  must  be  worth  one’s  while  to  stoop,  Andrea, 
when  our  good  Monte-Cristo  lets  fall  his  purse.” 

44  It  is  not  worth  while  to  wait  for  that,”  said  Andrea ; 44  money 
is  as  plentiful  in  that  house  as  fruit  in  an  orchard.” 

44  Try  to  give  me  an  idea  of  what  it  is.” 

44  Faith,  I should  require  pen,  ink,  and  paper  to  make  a plan.” 
44  They  are  all  here,’*  said  Caderousse,  briskly.  He  fetched 
from  an  old  bureau  a sheet  of  white  paper,  and  pen  and  ink. 
“Here,”  said  Caderousse,  44  trace  me  all  that  on  the  paper,  my 
boy.”  Andrea  took  the  pen  with  an  imperceptible  smile,  and 
began.  44  The  house,  as  I said,  is  between  the  court  and  the 
garden  ; in  this  way,  do  you  see?”  Andrea  traced  the  garden, 
the  court,  and  the  house. 

44  And  where  do  the  servants  sleep?” 4 4 Oh!  they  have  £ 

house  to  themselves.” 

44  And  he  is  not  robbed  ? ” 

44  No  ; his  servants  are  all  devoted  to  him.” 

44  There  ought  to  be  some  money  in  his  desk  ?" 

••  There  may  be.  No  one  knows  what  there  is.M 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


m 


••  And  where  is  it  ?” 

“On  the  first  floor.’ * 

“Sketch  me  the  plan  of  that  floor,  as  you  have  done  of  the 
groundfloor,  my  boy.” 

Caderousse  became  thoughtful. 

“ Does  he  often  go  to  Auteuil?  ” added  he 

“Two  or  three  times  a-week.  To-morrow,  for  instance,  he  is 
going  to  spend  the  day  and  night  there.  He  has  invited  me  to 
dine  there.” 

Caderousse  looked  at  the  young  man,  as  if  to  get  ac  the  truth 
from  the  bottom  of  his  heart.  But  Andrea  drew  a cigar-case  from 
his  pocket,  took  a Havannah,  quietly  lit  it,  and  began  smoking. 

“When  do  you  want  your  five  hundred  francs?”  said  he  to 
Caderousse. 

“ Now,  if  you  have  them.”  Andrea  took  five  and  twenty  louis 
from  his  pocket, 

“ Yellow  boys?”  said  Caderousse;  “no,  I thank  you.” 

“ You  can  change  them,  idiot ; gold  is  at  a premium.” 

“ Exactly  ; and  he  who  changes  them  will  follow  friend  Cader- 
ousse, lay  hands  on  him,  and  demand  what  farmers  pay  him  their 
rent  in  gold.  No  nonsense,  my  good  fellow  ; silver  simply,  round 
coins  with  the  head  of  some  monarch  or  other  on  them.  Anybody 
may  possess  a five-franc  piece.” 

“ But  do  you  suppose  I carry  five  hundred  francs  about  with 
me  ? I should  want  a porter.” 

“ Well,  leave  them  with  your  porter  ; he  is  to  be  trusted  : I 
will  call  for  them  to-morrow  ; I shall  not  have  time  to-day.” 

“ Well,  to-morrow,  I will  leave  them  when  I go  to  Auteuil.” 

“ How  sprightly  you  are  ! ” said  Caderousse  ; “ one  would  say 
you  were  already  in  possession  of  your  property.” 

“ No,  unfortunately  ; but  when  I do  obtain  it ” 

“Well?” 

“I  shall  remember  old  friends,  I only  tell  you  that.” 

“ Yes,  since  you  have  such  a good  memory.” 

“ What  do  you  want  ? I thought  you  had  ransomed  me.” 

“I?  What  an  idea!  I was  going  to  give  you  another  piect 
of  good  advice.” 

“To  leave  behind  you  the  diamond  you  have  on  your  finger. 
We  shall  both  get  in  trouble.  You  disguise  yourself  as  a servant, 
and  yet  keep  a diamond  on  your  finger  worth  four  or  five  thou- 
sand francs.” 

“ Have  you  finished  now?  ” said  Andrea, — “ do  you  want  any* 
thing  more  ? — will  you  have  my  waistcoat  or  my  certificate  ? Make 
free  now  you  have  begun.” 

“ No  ; you  are,  after  all,  a true  pal  ; I will  not  detain  you,  and 
will  try  to  cure  myself  of  my  ambition.” 

“ But  take  care  the  same  thing  does  not  happen  to  you  in  sell- 
ing the  diamond  you  feared  with  the  gold.” 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


374 

*•  I shall  not  sell  it — do  not  fear  it.’* 

44  Not  at  least  till  the  day  after  to-morrow,”  thought  the  y«>ung 
man. 

14  Happy  rogue!  ’*  said  Caderousse  ; "you  are  going  to  find 
your  servants,  horses,  carriage,  and  betrothed ! ” 

" Yes,”  said  Andrea. 

44  Well,  I hope  you  will  make  a handsome  wedding-present  the 
day  you  marry  Mdlle.  Danglars.” 

"Sure,”  said  Andrea;  “I  will  let  you  know  a week  before* 
hand.”  They  parted.  Caderousse  remained  on  the  landing  un- 
til he  had  not  only  seen  Andrea  go  down  the  three  stories,  but 
also  cross  the  court.  Then  he  returned  hastily,  shut  his  door 
carefully,  and  began  to  study,  like  a clever  architect,  the  plan 
Andrea  had  left  him. 

" Dear  Benedetto,”  said  he,  " I think  he  will  not  be  sorry  to  in- 
herit his  fortune,  and  he  who  hastens  the  day  when  he  can  touch 
his  five  hundred  thousand  will  not  be  his  worst  friend.* * 


CHAPTER  L1IX. 

BURGLARY  AND  MURDER. 

The  day  following,  Monte-Cristo  set  out  for  Auteuil,  accompa- 
nied by  Ali  and  several  attendants,  and  also  taking  with  him  some 
horses  whose  qualities  he  was  desirous  of  ascertaining.  He  was 
iaduced  to  undertake  this  journey,  of  which  the  day  before  he  had 
aot  even  thought,  and  which  had  not  either  occurred  to  Andrea, 
by  the  return  of  Bertuccio  from  Normandy,  with  intelligence  re 
specting  his  house  and  yacht.  The  house  was  ready,  and  thi 
sloop,  which  had  arrived  a week  before,  lay  at  anchor  in  a small 
creek,  with  her  crew  of  six  men,  who,  after  having  observed  all  th? 
requisite  formalities,  were  ready  again  to  put  to  sea.  The  count 
praised  Bertuccio’ s zeal,  and  ordered  him  to  prepare  for  a speed j 
departure,  as  his  stay  in  France  would  not  be  prolonged  more 
than  a month.  As  Bertuccio  was  leaving  the  room  to  give  thf# 
requisite  orders,  Baptistin  opened  the  door  : he  held  a letter  on  3 

silver  waiter. 44  What  do  you  do  here  ?”  asked  the  count,  see*> 

ing  him  covered  with  dust  ; 44 1 did  not  send  for  you,  I think?  ” 
Baptistin,  without  answering,  approached  the  count,  and  pre. 
sented  the  letter.  44  Important  and  urgent,”  said  he.  The  couu 
opened  the  letter,  and  read  : — 

44  The  Count  de  Monte-Cristo  is  notified  that  this  night  a mat 
will  enter  his  house  in  the  Champs-Elysees  with  the  intention  o\ 
carrying  off  some  papers  supposed  to  be  in  the  dressing-room. 
The  count’s  well-known  courage  will  render  unnecessary  the  aid 


% 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 375 

the  police,  whose  interference  might  seriously  affect  him  who 
aend^  this  advice.  The  count  will  be  able  to  defend  his  property 
himself.  Many  attendants  or  apparent  precautions  would  prevent 
the  villain  from  the  attempt,  and  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  would 
lose  the  opportunity  of  discovering  an  enemy  whom  chance  has 
revealed  to  him  who  now  sends  this  warning,  one  he  might  not  be 
able  to  send  another  time,  if  this  first  attempt  should  fail  and 
another  bt  snade.” 

“They  do  not  want  my  papers,”  said  Monte-Cristo;  54  they 
want  to  kill  me  : they  are  not  robbers,  but  assassins.  I will  not 
allow  the  Police  to  interfere  with  my  private  affairs.  I am  rich 
enough,  forsooth,  to  dispute  authority  on  this  occasion.”  The 
count  recalled  Baptistin,  who  had  left  .the'room  after  delivering 
the  letter.  44  Return  to  Paris,”  said  he  ; 44  assemble  the  servants 

who  remain  there.  I want  all  my  household  at  Auteuil.” 

44  But  will  no  remain  in  the  house,  my  lord?”  asked  Baptistin. 

*<  Yes,  the  janitor  ; let  everything  remain  as  usual,  only  close 

the  shutters  of  the  ground-floor.”^ 

44  And  those  of  the  first-floor?  ” 

44  You  know  they  are  never  closed.  Go!  ” 

The  count  signified  his  intention  of  dining  alone,  and  that  no 
one  but  Ali  should  attend  him.  Having  dined  with  his  usual 
tranquillity  and  moderation,  the  count,  making  a signal  to  Ali  to 
follow  him,  went  out  by  the  side-gate,  and,  on  reaching  the  Bois 
de  Boulogne,  turned,  apparently  without  design,  towards  Paris, 
and  at  twilight  found  himself  opposite,  his  house  in  the  Champs- 
Elysees.  All  was  dark  ; one  solitary,  feeble  light  was  burning  in 
the  porter’s  lodge,  about  forty  paces  distant  from  the  house,  as 
Baptistin  had  said.  Monte-Cristo  leant  against  a tree,  and,  with 
that  eye  which  was  so  rarely  deceived,  searched  the  double 
avenue,  examined  the  passers-by,  and  carefully  looked  down  the 
neighboring  streets,  to  see  that  no  one  was  concealed.  Ten  min- 
utes passed  thus,  and  he  was  convinced  no  one  was  watching  him. 
He  hastened  to  the  side-door  with  Ali,  entered  precipitately,  and 
by  the  servants’  staircase,  of  which  he  had  the  key,  gained  his 
bedroom  without  opening  or  disarranging  a single  curtain,  with- 
out even  the  porter  having  the  slightest  suspicion  that  the  house, 
which  he  supposed  empty,  contained  its  chief  occupant. 

Arrived  in  his  bed-room,  the  count  motioned  to  Ali  to  stop  ; then 
he  passed  into  the  dressing-room,  which  he  examined  : all  was  as 
usual— -the  precious  secretary  in  its  place,  and  the  key  in.  He 
doubly  locked  it,  took  the  key,  returned  to  the  bedroom-door,  re- 
moved the  double  staple  of  the  bolt,  and  went  in.  Meanwhile  Ali 
had  procured  the  arms  the  count  required — namely,  a short  car- 
bine and  a pair  of  double-barrelled  pistols.  Thus  armed,  the 
*ount  held  the  lives  of  five  men  in  his  hands.  It  was  about  half- 
past nine.  Two  hours  passed  thus.  It  was  intensely  dark.  If 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 

would  be  his  bedroom  they  would  attack,  and  they  must  reach  tl 
by  the  back  staircase,  or  by  the  window  in  the  dressing-room. 
The  clock  struck  a quarter  to  twelve  ; the  west  wind  bore  on  its 
moistened  gusts  the  doleful  vibration  of  the  three  strokes.  As  the 
last  stroke  died  away,  the  count  thought  he  heard  a slight  noise  in 
the  dressing-room  ; this  first  sound,  or  rather  this  first  scratching, 
was  followed  by  a second,  then  a third  ; at  the  fourth,  the  count 
knew  what  to  expect.  A firm  and  well-practised  hand  was  en- 
gaged in  cutting  out  a pane  of  glass  with  a diamond.  The  count 
felt  his  heart  beat  more  rapidly.  Inured  as  men  may  be  to  dan- 
ger, forewarned  as  they  may  be  of  peril,  they  understand,  by  the 
fluttering  of  the  heart  and  the  shuddering  of  the  frame,  the  enor- 
mous difference  between  dream  and  reality,  between  project  and 
execution.  However,  Monte-Cristo  only  made  a sign  to  apprise 
Ali,  who,  understanding  that  danger  was  approaching  from  the 
other  side,  drew  nearer  to  his  master.  Monte-Cristo  was  eager  to 
ascertain  the  strength  and  number  of  his  enemies. 

The  window  whence  the  noise  proceeded  was  opposite  the  open- 
ing by  which  the  count  coula  sc-  into  the  dressing-room.  He 
fixed  his  eyes  on  that  window — he  distinguished  a shadow  in  the 
darkness  ; then  one  of  the  panes  became  quite  opaque,  as  if  a 
sheet  of  paper  were  stuck  on  the  outside,  then  the  square  cracked 
without  falling.  Through  the  opening  an  arm  was  passed  to  find 
the  fastening,  then  a second  ; the  window  turned  on  its  hinges, 
and  a man  entered.  He  was  alone. 

*•  That’s  a daring  rascal ! ” whispered  the  count. 

At  that  moment  Ali  touched  him  slightly  on  the  shoulder.  He 
turned  ; Ali  pointed  to  the  window  of  the  room  in  which  they  were, 
facing  the  street.  “ Good  ! ” said  he,  there  are  two  of  them  ; one 
acts  while  the  other  watches.”  He  made  a sign  to  All  not  to  lose 
sight  of  the  man  in  the  street,  and  returned  to  the  one  in  the 
dressing-room. 

The  glass-cutter  had  entered,  and  was  feeling  his  way,  his  arms 
stretched  out  before  him.  At  last  he  appeared  to  have  made 
himself  familiar  with  all  parts.  There  were  two  doors  ; he  bolted 
them  both. 

When  he  drew  near  to  that  of  the  bedroom,  Monte-Cristo  ex- 
pected he  was  coming  in,  and  raised  one  of  his  pistols ; but  he 
simply  heard  the  sound  of  the  bolts  sliding  in  their  brass  rings. 
It  was  only  a precaution.  The  nocturnal  visitor,  ignorant  of  the 
count’s  having  removed  the  staples,  might  now  think  himself  at 
home,  and  pursue  his  purpose  with  full  security.  Alone  and  un- 
controlled, the  man  then  drew  from  his  pocket  something  which  the 
count  could  not  discern,  placed  it  on  a stand,  then  went  straight  to 
the  secretary,  felt  the  lock,  and,  contrary  to  his  expectation,  found 
that  the  key  was  missing.  But  the  glass-cutter  was  a prudent  map, 
who  had  provided  for  all  emergencies.  The  count  soon  heard  the 
rattling  of  a bunch  of  shapeless  keys,  such  as  the  locksmith 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


3 77 


brings  Mien  called  to  force  a lock,  and  which  thieves  call  lock* 
picks.  “ Ah,  ah  ! ” whispered  Monte-Cristo,  with  a smile  of  dis- 
appointment. “ he  is  only  a thief ! ” 

But  the  man  in  the  dark  coull  not  find  the  right  key.  He 
reached  the  instrument  he  had  placed  on  the  stand,  touched  a 
spring,  and  immediately  a pale  light,  just  bright  enough  to  render 
objects  distinct,  was  reflected  on  the  hands  and  countenance  of 
the  man.  “Hold!”  exclaimed  Monte-Cristo  starting  back,  “it 
is— 

Ali  raised  his  hatchet.  “ Don’t  stir,”  whispered  Monte-Cristo, 
“and  put  down  your  ax  ; we  shall  require  no  arms.”  Then  he 
added  some  words  in  a low  tone,  for  the  exclamation  which  sur- 
prise had  drawn  from  the  count,  weak  as  it  had  been,  had  startled 
the  man,  who  remained  in  the  position  of  the  old  grinder.  It  was 
an  order  the  count  had  just  given,  for  immediately  Ali  went  noise- 
lessly, and  returned,  bearing  a black  gown  and  a three-cornered 
hat.  Meanwhile  Monte-Cristo  had  rapidly  taken  off  his  great- 
coat, waistcoat,  and  shirt,  and  one  might  distinguish  by  the  glim- 
mering through  the  open  panel  that  he  wore  a shirt  of  mail.  This 
soon  disappeared  under  a long  cassock,  as  did  his  hair  under  a 
priest’s  wig  ; the  three-cornered  hat  over  this  effectually  transformed 
the  count  into  a priest. 

The  man,  hearing  nothing  more,  had  again  raised  himself,  and, 
while  Monte-Cristo  was  completing  his  disguise,  had  advanced 
straight  to  the  secretary,  whose  lock  was  beginning  to  crack  under 
his  tool. 

“Well  done!”  whispered  the  count,  who  depended  on  the 
secret  spring,  which  was  unknown  to  the  picklock,  clever  as  he 
might  be — "Well  done!  you  have  a few  minutes’  work  there.” 
And  he  advanced  to  the  window.  The  man  whom  he  had  seen 
seated  on  a fence  had  got  down,  and  was  still  pacing  the  street ; 
but,  strange  as  it  appeared,  he  cared  not  for  those  who  might  pass  ; 
his  attention  was  Engrossed  with  what  was  passing  at  the  count’s, 
and  his  only  aim  appeared  to  be  to  discern  every  movement  in 
the  dressing-room. 

Monte-Cristo  suddenly  struck  his  finger  on  his  forehead,  and  a 
smile  passed  over  his  lips  ; then  drawing  near  to  Ali,  he  whis- 
pered : 

“ Remain  here,  concealed  in  the  dark,  and  whatever  noise  you 
hear,  whatever  passes,  only  come  in  or  show  yourself  if  I call 
you.”  Ali  bowed  in  token  of  strict  obedience.  Monte-Cristo 
then  drew  a lighted  taper  from  a closet,  and  when  the  thief  was 
deeply  engaged  with  his  lock,  silently  opened  the  door,  taking 
care  that  the  light  should  shine  directly  on  his  face.  The  door 
opened  so  quietly  that  the  thief  heard  no  sound  ; but,  to  his  as- 
tonishment, the  room  was  in  a moment  light.  He  turned. 

“Good  evening,  dear  M.  Caderousse  ! ” said  Monte-Cristo; 
“ what  are  you  doing  here  at  such  an  hour?  ” 


378  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

44  The  Abb6  Busoni ! ” exclaimed  Caderousse  ; and,  not  know- 
ing  how  this  strange  apparition  could  have  entered  when  he  had 
bolted  the  doors,  he  let  his  bunch  of  keys,  and  remained  motion- 
less and  stupefied.  The  count  placed  himself  between  Caderousse 
and  the  window,  thus  cutting  off  from  the  thief  his  only  chance 
of  retreat.  44  Busoni!  ” repeated  Caderousse,  fixing  his  haggard 
gaze  on  the  count. 

41  Yes,  doubtless,  Abbe  Busoni  himself!  ” replied  Monte-Cristo. 
44  And  I am  very  glad  you  recongize  me,  dear  M.  Caderousse  ; it 
proves  you  have  a good  memory,  for  it  must  be  about  ten  years 
since  we  last  met.”  This  calmness  of  Busoni,  combined  with  his 
irony  and  boldness,  staggered  Caderousse. 

44  So  you  would  rob  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo?  ” continued  the 
mock  priest.  44  Come,  come,  I see  you  are  still  the  same — an 

assassin.” “Since  you  know  everything,  you  know  it  was  not 

I — it  was  La  Carconte  ; that  was  proved  at  the  trial,  since  I was 
only  condemned  to  the  galleys.” 

44  Is  your  time,  then,  exphed,  since  I find  you  in  a fair  way  to 
return  there  ? ” 

44  No,  I was  liberated  by  some  one.” 

44  That  some  one  has  done  society  a great  kindness/* 

44  Ah,”  said  Caderousse,  44 1 had  promised ” 

44  A bad  relapse,  that  will  lead  you,  if  I mistake  not,  to  Execu- 
tion Place.  So  much  the  worse,  so  much  the  worse — diavolo!  as 
they  say  in  my  country.” 

44  Poverty— — ” 

. 44  Pshaw ! ” said  Busoni,  disdainfully  ; *4  poverty  may  make  a 
man  beg,  steal  a loaf  of  bread  at  a baker’s  door,  but  not  cause 
him  to  open  a secretary  in  a house  supposed  to  be  uninhabited. 
And  when  the  jeweler  Johannes  had  just  paid  you  45,000  francs 
for  the  diamond  I had  given  you,  and  you  killed  him  to  get  the 
diamond  and  the  money  both,  was  that  also  poverty  ? ” 

44  Pardon  ! M said  Caderousse  ; 44  you  have  saved  my  life  once, 
save  me  again ! ” 

44  That  is  but  poor  encouragement.” 

44  Are  you  alone,  or  have  you  there  soldiers  ready  to  seize  me?” 
44 1 am  alone/*  said  the  abbe,  44  and  I will  again  have  pity  on 
you  and  will  let  you  escape,  at  the  risk  of  the  fresh  miseries  my 
weakness  may  lead  to,  if  you  tell  me  the  truth.” 

44  Ah,”  cried  Caderousse,  clasping  his  hands,  and  drawing 
nearer  to  Monte-Cristo,  44  I may  indeed  say  you  are  my  deliv- 
erer ! 

44  You  mean  to  say  you  have  been  freed  from  confinement?  ” 

44  Yes,  in  truth.” 

44  Who  was  your  liberator?  ” 

44  An  Englishman,  Lord  Wilmore.” 44 1 know  him  ; I shell 

know  if  you  lie.  Was  this  Englishman  protecting  you  ? M 
44  No,  not  me,  but  a young  Corsican,  my  companion/' 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


379 


••  What  was  this  Corsican’s  name  ? ” 

••  Benedetto.  He  had  no  other  ; he  was  a foundling.” 

••Then  this  young  man  escaped  with  you  ? ” “ He  did.” 

••  And  what  is  become  of  this  Benedetto  ? ” 

“ No,  in  truth  ; we  parted  at  Hyeres.”  And  to  give  more  weight 
to  his  protestation,  Caderousse  advanced  another  step  towards 
the  abbe,  who  remained  motionless  in  his  place,  as  calm  as  ever, 
and  pursuing  his  interrogation.  “You  lie  ! ” said  Busoni,  with  a 
tone  of  irresistible  authority.  “ You  lie  ! This  man  is  still  your 
friend,  and  you,  perhaps,  make  use  of  him  as  your  accomplice.”- 

“Oh,  father!” “Since  you  left  Toulon  what  have  you 

lived  on?  Answer  me  ! ” “ On  what  I could  get.” 

••  You  have  lived  on  the  money  he  has  given  you.” 

“True!  ” said  Caderousse:  “Benedetto  has  become  the  son 
of  a great  lord,  a natural  son.  The  count  of  Monte-Cristo’s 
the  very  same  in  whose  house  we  are.” 

“ Benedetto  the  count’s  son  ! ” replied  Monte-Cristo,  who  began 
to  understand  ; “ and  what  name  does  the  young  man  bear  mean- 
while ? ” 

“Andrea  Cavalcanti.” 

“Is  it,  then,  that  young  man  whom  my  friend  the  count  of 
Monte-Cristo  has  received  into  his  house,  and  who  is  going  to 
marry  Mademoiselle  Danglars?” 

“ Exactly.” 

“ And  you  suffer  that,  you  wretch ! — you,  who  know  his  life  and 
his  crime  ? ” 

“ Why  should  I stand  in  a partner's  way  ? ” said  Caderousse. 
“You  are  right ; it  is  not  you  who  should  apprise  M.  Danglars, 
it  is  I.” 

“ Do  not  do  so,  because  you  would  bring  us  to  ruin.” 

“ And  you  think  that  to  save  such  villains  as  you  I will  become 
an  abettor  of  their  plot — an  accomplice  in  their  crimes  ? ” 

“ Father,”  said  Caderousse,  drawing  still  nearer. 

“ I will  expose  all  to  M.  Danglars.” 

“ By  Heaven!  *’  cried  Caderousse,  drawing  from  his  waistcoat 
an  open  knife,  and  striking  the  count  in  the  breast,  “you  shall 
disclose  nothing!  ” To  Caderousse’ s great  astonishment,  the 
knife,  instead  of  piercing  the  count’s  breast*  flew  back  blunted. 
At  the  same  moment  the  count  seized  with  his  left  hand  the  as« 
sassin’s  wrist,  and  wrung  it  with  such  strength  that  the  knife  fell 
from  his  stiffened  fingers,  and  Caderousse  uttered  a cry  of  pain. 
But  the  count,  disregarding  his  cry,  continued  to  wring  the 
bandit’s  wrist,  until,  his  arm  being  dislocated,  he  fell  first  on  his 
knees,  then  flat  on  the  floor.  The  count  then  placed  his  foot 
on  his  head,  saying.  “ I know  not  what  restrains  me  from  crush- 
ing thy  skull,  rascal ! ” 

“ Ah,  mercy — mercy  ! ” cried  Caderousse.  The  count  withdrew 
his  foot.  “Rise  ! ” said  he.  Caderousse  rose. 


$80  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

“ What  a wrist  you  have,  father  ! **  said  Caderousse,  stroking 
his  arm,  all  bruised  by  the  fleshy  pincers  which  had  held  it, 
“Silence!  God  gives  me  strength  to  overcome  a wild  beast 
like  you  ; in  the  name  of  that  God  I act — remember  that,  wretch  I 
— and  to  spare  thee  at  this  moment  is  still  serving  Him.” 

“ Oh ! ” said  Caderousse,  groaning  with  pain. 

“ Take  this  pen  and  paper,  and  write  what  I dictate.'* 

“I  don’t  know  how  to  write.” 

“ You  lie  ! Take  this  pen,  and  write ! ” 

Caderousse,  awed  by  the  superior  power  of  the  abbe,  sat  dov 
and  wrote : 

“Sir, — The  man  whom  you  are  receiving  at  your  house,  and 
to  whom  you  intend  to  marry  your  daughter,  is  a felon  who  es* 
caped  with  me  from  confinement  at  Toulon.  He  was  No.  59, 
and  I No.  58.  He  was  called  Benedetto  ; but  he  is  ignorant  of 
his  real  name,  having  never  known  his  parents.” 

“ Sign  it ! ” continued  the  count. 

Caderousse  signed  it.  “The  address,  ‘Baron  Danglars, 
banker,  Chaussee  d’Antin.’  Caderousse  wrote  the  address* 
The  abbe  took  the  note.  “ Now,M  said  he,  “ that  suffices — be- 
gone ! ” 

“ You  wish  me  to  get  out  at  that  window?  " 

“You  got  in  very  well.” 

“ But  swear  that  you  will  not  strike  me  as  I go  down.** 

“ Cowardly  fool ! ” 

“Father,”  said  Caderousse,  “make  one  more  trial — try  me 
once  more ! " 

“I  will,”  said  the  count.  “If  you  reach  your  home  safely, 
leave  Paris,  leave  France  ; and  wherever  you  may  be,  so  long  as 
you  conduct  yourself  well,  I will  send  you  a small  annuity  ; for, 

if  you  return  home  safely,  then- ” 

“ Then?”  asked  Caderousse,  shuddering, 

“ Then  I shall  believe  God  has  forgiven  you,  and  I will  forgive 
you  too.” 

“As  true  as  I am  a Christian,”  stammered  Caderousse,  “ you 
will  make  me  die  of  fright!  ” 

He  then  descended,  but  it  was  only  when  he  felt  his  foot  touch 
the  ground  that  he  was  satisfied  he  was  safe. 

Monte-Cristo  returned  to  his  bedroom,  and  glancing  rapidly 
from  the  garden  to  the  street,  he  saw  first  Caderousse,  who,  after 
walking  to  the  end  of  the  garden,  fixed  his  ladder  against  the  wall 
at  a different  part  from  where  he  came  in.  The  count  then,  look- 
ing over  into  the  street,  saw  the  man  who  appeared  to  be  waiting 
run  in  the  same  direction,  and  place  himself  against  the  angle  of 
the  wall  where  Caderousse  would  come  over.  Caderousse  climbed 
the  ladder  slowly,  and  looked  over  the  coping  to  see  if  the  stmt 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 38 1 

was  quiet.  No  one  could  be  seen  or  heard.  The  clock  of  the 
Invalides  struck  one.  Then  Caderousse  sat  astride  the  coping, 
and,  drawing  up  his  ladder,  passed  it  over  the  wall  ; then  Legan 
to  descend,  or  rather  to  slide  down  by  the  two  stanchions,  which 
he  did  with  an  ease  which  proved  how  accustomed  he  was  to  the 
exercise.  But,  once  started,  he  could  not  stop.  In  vain  did  he 
see  a man  start  from  the  shade  when  he  was  half-way  down — in 
vain  did  he  see  an  arm  raised  as  he  touched  the  ground.  Before 
he  could  defend  himself  that  arm  struck  him  so  violently  in  the 
back  that  he  let  go  the  ladder,  crying,  “ Help  ! ” A second  stab 
struck  him  almost  immediately  in  the  side,  and  he  fell,  calling, 
“Murder!”  Then,  as  he  rolled  on  the  ground,  his  adversary 
seized  him  by  the  hair,  and  struck  him  a third  blow  in  the  chest. 
This  time  Caderousse  endeavored  to  call  again,  but  he  could  only 
utter  a groan,  and  he  shuddered  as  the  blood  flowed  from  his  three 
wounds.  The  assassin,  finding  he  ho  longer  cried,  lifted  his  head 
up  by  the  hair  ; his  eyes  were  closed,  and  mouth  distorted.  The 
murderer,  supposing  him  dead,  let  fall  his  head  and  disappeared. 
Then  Caderousse,  feeling  that  he  was  leaving  him,  raised  himself 
on  his  elbow,  and,  with  a dying  voice,  cried,  with  great  effort, 
“ Murder  ! I am  dying  ! Help,  father — help  ! ” 

This  mournful  appeal  pierced  the  darkness.  The  door  of  the 
back-staircase  opened,  then  the  side-gate  of  the  garden,  and  Ali 
and  his  master  were  on  the  spot  with  lights. 

“ What  is  the  matter  ? ” asked  Monte-Cristo. 

“ Help  ! '*  cried  Caderousse  ; “ I am  murdered  1 M 

“ We  are  here  ; — take  courage  ! ” 

“Ah,  it’s  all  over!  You  are  come  too  late  ; — you  are  come  to 
see  me  die.  What  blows!  what  blood  ! ” He  fainted.  Ali  and 
bis  master  conveyed  the  wounded  man  into  a room.  Monte-Cristo 
motioned  to  Ali  to  undress  him,  and  he  then  examined  his  dread- 
ful wounds.  “My  God!”  he  exclaimed,  “Thy  vengeance  is 
sometimes  delayed,  but  only  that  it  may  fall  the  more  effectually.’* 
Ali  looked  at  his  master  for  further  instructions.  “ Conduct  here 
immediately  the  Royal  Prosecutor  Villefort,  who  lives  in  the  Fau- 
bourg St.  Honore.  As  you  pass  the  lodge,  Wake  the  porter,  and 
send  him  for  a surgeon.”  Ali  obeyed,  leaving  the  abbe  alone  with 
Caderousse,  who  had  not  yet  revived. 

When  the  wretched  man  again  opened  his  eyes,  the  count  looked 
at  him  with  a mournful  expression  of  pity,  and  his  lips  moved  as 
if  in  prayer.  “A  surgeon,  M.  l’Abbe — a surgeon!  ” said  Cade- 
rousse. 

“ I have  sent  for  one,”  replied  the  abbe. 

“ I know  we  cannot  save  my  life,  but  he  may  strengthen  me  to 
give  my  evidence  against  my  murderer  Benedetto.” 

“ Your  comrade  ? ” 

“ Yes.  After  giving  me  the  plan  of  this  house,  doubtless 
hoping  I should  kill  the  count  and  he  thus  become  his  heir,  or  that 


382  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

the  count  would  kill  me  and  I should  be  out  of  his  way,  he  way- 
laid me  and  has  murdered  me.*' 

44  Oh,  send  for  some  one  to  whom  I can  denounce  the  wretch  1 " 
44  Shall  I write  your  deposition  ? You  can  sign  it.” 

44  Yes,  yes,”  said  Caderousse;  and  his  eyes  glistened  at  the 
thought  of  this  posthumous  revenge.  Monte-Cristo  wrote  : 

44  I die  murdered  by  the  Corsican  Benedetto,  my  chain-compan- 
ion in  the  galleys  at  Toulon,  No.  59.” 

44  Quick,  quick!  ” said  Caderousse,  44  or  I shall  be  unable  to 
sign  it.” 

Monte-Cristo  gave  the  pen  to  Caderousse,  who  collected  all  his 
strength,  signed  it,  and  fell  back  on  the  .bed,  saying  : 44  You  will 
relate  all  the  rest,  M.  1* Abbe  ; you  will  say  he  calls  himself  An- 
drea Cavalcanti.  He  lodges  at  the  Hotel  des  Princes.  Oh,  I am 
dying  ! ” He  again  fainted.  The  abbe  made  him  smell  the  con- 
tents of  the  phial,  and  he  again  opened  his  eyes.  His  desire  for 
revenge  had  not  forsaken  him. 

44  He  will  be  guillotined,  will  he  not  ? ” said  Caderousse.  44  Prom- 
ise me  that,  and  I will  die  with  that  hope.” 

44  Remember  my  words  : 4 If  you  return  home  safely,  I shall  be- 
lieve God  has  forgiven  you,  and  I will  forgive  you  also.*  ” 

44  And  you  did  not  warn  me  ! ” cried  Caderousse,  raising  him- 
self on  his  elbows.  44  You  knew  I should  be  killed  on  leaving  this 
house,  you  should  have  prevented  Benedetto  from  killing  me.” 

44 1?”  said  the  count,  with  a smile  which  petrified  the  dying 
man,  44  when  you  had  just  broken  your  knife  against  the  coat  of 
mail  which  protected  my  breast ! Yet,  perhaps,  if  I had  found 
you  humble  and  penitent,  I might  have  prevented  Benedetto  from 
killing  you  ; but  I found  you  proud  and  blood-thirsty,  and  I left 
you  in  the  hands  of  God.” 

44 1 do  not  believe  there  is  a God ! ” howled  Caderousse  ; 44  you 
do  not  believe  it : you  lie — you  lie  ! ” 

44  There  is  a Providence,  there  is  a God,”  said  Monte-Cristo, 
44  of  which  you  are  a striking  proof,  as  you  lie  in  utter  despair,  de- 
nying Him ; while  I stand  before  you,  rich,  happy,  safe,  and  en- 
treating that  God  in  whom  you  endeavor  not  to  believe,  while  in 
your  heart  you  still  believe  in  Him.”- — 44  But  who  are  you, 
then?”  asked  Caderousse,  fixing  his  dying  eyes  on  the  count. 
44  Look  well  at  me  ! ” said  Monte-Cristo,  putting  the  light  near  his 
face.  “Well!  Abbe  Busoni.”  Monte-Cristo  took  off  the  wig 
which  disfigured  him,  and  let  fall  his  black  hair,  which  added  so 
much  to  the  beauty  of  his  pallid  features.  44  Oh  ! ” said  Cade- 
rousse, thunderstruck,  44  but  for  that  black  hair,  I should  say  you 
were  the  Englishman,  Lord  Wilmore.” 

44 1 am  neither  Abbe  Busoni,  nor  Lord  Wilmore,”  said  Monte- 
Cristo ; “think  again,  do  you  not  recollect  me?”  There  was  a 
magic  effect  in  the  count’s  words,  which  once  more  revived  tfef 
exhausted  powers  of  the  miserable  man* 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 383 


44  Yes,  indeed,’*  said  he,  44 1 think  I have  seen  you  and  known 
you  formerly.” 

44  Yes,  Caderousse,  you  have  seen  me,  you  knew  me  once.” 

44  Who  then  are  you?  and  why,  if  you  knew  me,  do  you  let  me 
die?” 

44  Because  nothing  can  save  you,  your  wounds  are  mortal.” 

The  count  had  watched  the  approach  of  death.  He  knew  this  was 
the  last  struggle,  he  approached  the  dying  man,  and  leaning  over 
him  with  a calm  and  melancholy  look,  he  whispered, — 44 1 am — I am 

” And  his  almost  closed  lips  uttered  a name  so  low  that  the 

count  himself  appeared  afraid  to  hear  it.  Caderousse,  who  had 
raised  himself  on  his  knees,  and  stretched  out  his  arm,  tried  to 
draw  back,  then  clasping  his  hands,  and  raising  them  with  a 
desperate  effort,  moaned: — “Oh!  my  God!  my  God!  pardon 
me  for  having  denied  Thee  ; Thou  dost  exist  : Thou  art,  indeed, 

man’s  father  in  heaven,  and  his  Judge  on  earth.  My  God,  my 
Lord,  I have  long  despised  Thee  ! Pardon  me,  my  God  ; receive 
me,  O my  Lord  ! ” Caderousse  sighed  deeply,  and  fell  back  with 
a groan.  The  blood  n6  longer  flowed  from  his  wounds.  He  was 
dead. 

44  One!"  said  the  count,  mysteriously,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
corpse,  disfigured  by  so  awful  a death.  Ten  minutes  afterwards 
the  surgeon  and  the  procureur  du  roi  arrived ; the  one  accom- 
panied by  the  porter,  the  other  by  Ali,  and  were  received  by  the 
Abbe  Busoni,  praying  by  the  side  of  the  corpse. 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

MORCERF  ON  THE  DEFENCE. 

The  daring  attempt  to  rob  the  count  was  the  topic  of  converse 
don  throughout  Paris  for  the  next  fortnight : the  dying  man  had 
signed  a deposition  declaring  Benedetto  to  be  the  assassin.  Th< 
policG  had  orders  to  make  the  strictest  search  for  the  murderer. 
Caderousse’s  knife,  dark  lantern,  bunch  of  keys,  and  clothing,  ex- 
cepting the  waistcoat,  which  could  not  be  found,  were  deposited 
at  the  registry  ; the  corpse  was  conveyed  to  the  Morgue.  The 
count  told  every  one  this  adventure  had  happened  during  his  ab- 
sence at  Auteuil,  and  that  he  only  knew  what  was  related  by  the 
Abbe  Busoni,  who  that  evening,  by  mere  chance,  had  requested 
to  pass  the  night  in  his  house  to  examine  some  valuable  books  in 
his  library.  Bertuccio  alone  turned  pale  whenever  Benedetto’s 
name  was  mentioned  in  his  presence  : but  there  was  no  reason  why 
any  one  should  notice  his  doing  so.  Villefort,  being  called  on  to 
prove  the  crime  was  preparing  the  case  with  the  same  ardor  as  he 
was  accustomed  to  exercise  when  called  on. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


384 

But  three  weeks  had  already  passed,  and  the  most  diligent 
search  had  been  unsuccessful ; the  attempted  robbery  and  the 
murder  of  the  robber  by  his  comrade  were  almost  forgotten  in  an- 
ticipation of  the  approaching  marriage  of  Mdlle.  Danglars  to  the 
Count  Andrea  Cavalcanti.  It  was  expected  this  wedding  would 
shortly  take  place,  as  the  young  man  was  received  at  the  banker’s 
as  the  betrothed.  Letters  had  been  despatched  to  M.  Cavalcanti, 
as  the  count’s  father,  who  highly  approved  of  the  union,  regretted 
his  inability  to  leave  Parma  at  that  time,  and  promised  a wedding 
gift  of  a hundred  and  fifty  thousand  livres.  It  was  agreed  that 
the  three  millions  should  be  intrusted  to  Danglars  to  improve ; 
some  persons  had  warned  the,  young  man  of  the  circumstances 
of  his  future  father-in-law,  who  had  of  late  sustained  repeated 
losses,  but  with  sublime  disinterestedness  and  confidence  the  young 
man  refused  to  listen,  or  to  express  a single  doubt  to  the  baron. 
The  baron  adored  Count  Andrea  Cavalcanti  ; not  so  Mdlle.  Eu- 
genie Danglars.  With  an  instinctive  hatred  of  matrimony,  she 
suffered  Andrea’s  attentions  in  order  to  get  rid  of  Morcerf;  but 
when  Andrea  urged  his  suit,  she  betrayed  an  entire  dislike  to  him. 
The  baron  might  possibly  have  perceived  it,  but  attributing  it  to 
caprice,  feigned  ignorance. 

The  delay  demanded  by  Beauchamp  had  nearly  expired. 
Morcerf  appreciated  the  advice  of  Monte-Cristo  to  let  things  die 
away  of  their  own  accord  ; no  one  had  taken  up  the  remark  about 
the  general,  and  no  one  had  recognized  in  the  officer  who  betrayed 
the  Castle  of  Janina  the  noble  count  in  the  House  of  Lords.  One 
morning  Albert  was  awoke  by  his  valet,  who  announced  Beau- 
champ. Albert  rubbed  his  eyes,  ordered  his  servant  to  introduce 
him  into  the  small  smoking-room  on  the  ground-floor,  dressed 
himself  quickly,  and  went  down.  He  found  Beauchamp  pacing 
the  room  : on  perceiving  him  Beauchamp  stopped. 

“ Albert,”  said  Beauchamp,  with  a look  of  sorrow  which  stupe* 
fied  the  young  man,  “let  us  first  sit  down  and  talk.” 

“ Rather,  sir,  before  we  sit  down,  I must  demand  your  answer.” 

“Albert,”  said  the  journalist,  * I have  just  returned  from 
Janina.” 

“ Impossible  ! ” 

“Here  is  my  passport;  examine  the  visas— Geneva,  Milanr 
Venice,  Trieste,  Janina.  Will  you  believe  the  government  of  z 
republic,  a kingdom,  and  an  empire?  '*  Albert  cast  his  eyes  on 
the  passport,  then  raised  them  in  astonishment  to  Beauchamp. 
••  You  have  been  to  Janina?  ” said  he. 

“The  paragraph  was  correct,  my  friend.” 

“What!  that  French  officer ” 

u Yes.” “ The  traitor  who  surrendered  the  castle  of  the  man 

in  whose  service  he  was 

“ Pardon  me,  my  friend,  that  man  was  your  father  ! ” Albeit 
advanced  furiously  towards  Beauchamp,  but  the  latter  restrained 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  385 

him  more  by  a mild  look  than  by  his  extended  hand.  11  My 
friend,”  said  he,  “here  is  a proof  of  it.” 

Albert  opened  the  paper ; it  was  an  attestation  of  four  notable 
inhabitants  of  Janina,  proving  that  Colonel  Fernand  Mondego,  in 
the  service  of  Ali  Tebelen,  had  surrendered  the  castle  for  two 
million  crowns.  The  signatures  were  perfectly  legal.  Albert  tot- 
tered and  fell  overpowered  in  a chair.  It  could  no  longer  be 
< doubted  : the  family  name  was  fully  given. 

“I  hastened  to  you,”  continued  Beauchamp,  “ to  tell  you, 
Albert,  in  thi.s  changing  age,  the  faults  of  a father  cannot  revert 
upon  his  children.  Now  I have  these  proofs,  Albert,  and  I am  in 
your  confidence,  no  human  power  can  force  me  to  a duel  which 
your  own  conscience  would  reproach  you  with  as  criminal,  but  I 
come  to  offer  you  what  you  can  no  longer  demand  of  me.  Do  you 
wish  these  proofs,  these  attestations,  which  I alone  possess,  to  be 
destroyed  ? Do  you  wish  this  frightful  secret  to  remain  with  us  ? 
Confided  to  me,  it  shall  never  escape  my  lips  ; say,  Albert,  my 
friend,  do  you  wish  it?  ” 

Albert  threw  himself  on  Beauchamp’s  neck.  "Ah!  noble 
fellow  ! ” cried  he. 

“Take  these,”  said  Beauchamp,  presenting  the  papers  to 
Albert. 

Albert  seized  them  with  a convulsive  hand,  tore  them  in  pieces  ; 
and,  trembling  lest  the  least  vestige  should  escape,  and  one  day 
appear  to  confront  him,  he  approached  the  waxlight,  always  kept 
burning  for  cigars,  and  consumed  every  fragment.  “ Dear,  excel- 
lent friend  ! ” murmured  Albert,  still  burning  the  papers. 

“Let  all  be  forgotten  as  a sorrowful  dream,”  said  Beauchamp. 

“ I am  broken-hearted,”  said  Albert.  “ Listen,  Beauchamp  1 I 
cannot  thus,  in  a moment,  relinquish  the  respect,  the  confidence, 
and  pride  with  which  a father’s  untarnished  name  inspires  a son. 
Oh  ! Beauchamp,  Beauchamp  ! how  shall  I now  approach  mine  ? 
Shall  I draw  back  my  forehead  from  his  embrace,  or  withhold  my 
hand  from  his?  I am  the  most  wretched  of  men.  Ah  ! my 
mother,  my  poor  mother  i ” said  Albert,  gazing  through  his  tears 
at  his  motner’s  portrait ; “if  you  know  this,  how  much  must  you 
suffer?  '* 

“Come,”  said  Beauchamp,  taking  both  his  hands,  “take 
courage,  my  friend.*’ 

“ What  ? ” said  Albert,  seeing  Beauchamp  hesitated. 

“ Are  you  going  to  marry  Mdlle.  Danglars.” 

“ Why  do  you  ask  me  now?  ” “ Because  the  rupture  of  fuh 

filment  this  engagement  is  connected  with  the  purveyor  of  that 

paragraph.” “How?”  said  Albert,  whose  brow  reddened: 

“you  think,  M.  Danglars Well,  the  engagement  is  broken 

off.” “Well ! ” said  Beauchamp.  Then,  seeing  the  young  man 

was  about  to  relapse  into  melancholy,  “ Let  us  go  out,  Albert,” 
*asd  he  ; “ a ride  in  the  wood  in  the  phaeton,  or  on  horseback,  will 
2s 


386  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

refresh  you  ; we  will  then  return  to  breakfast,  and  you  shall  attend 
to  your  affairs,  and  I to  mine.” 

But  two  days  after,  in  the  government  organ,  appeared  this 
paragraph  : 

“The  French  officer  in  the  service  of  Ali,  Pacha  of Janina, 
alluded  to  three  weeks  since  in  the  1 Impartial,’  who  not  only  sur- 
rendered the  castle  of  Janina,  but  sold  his  benefactor  to  the  Turks, 
styled  himself  truly  at  that  time  Fernand,  as  our  honorable  brother 
states  ; but  he  has  since  added  to  his  Christian  name  a title  of  no- 
bility and  a family  name.  He  now  calls  himself  the  Count  of 
Morcerf,  and  ranks  among  the  peers.” 

Thus  this  terrible  secret,  which  Beauchamp  had  so  generously 
destroyed,  appeared  again  as  an  armed  phantom. 

The  same  day,  a great  agitation  was  manifest  in  the  House  of 
Peers  among  the  usually  calm  groups  of  the  noble  assembly. 
Every  one  had  arrived  almost  before  the  usual  hour,  and  was  con- 
versing on  the  melancholy  event  which  was  to  attract  the  atten- 
tion of  the  public  towards  one  of  their  most  illustrious  members. 
Some  were  perusing  the  article,  others  making  comments  and  re- 
calling circumstances  which  substantiated  the  charges  still  more. 
The  count  was  no  favorite  with  his  colleagues.  Like  all  upstarts, 
he  hart  had  recourse  to  a great  deal  of  haughtiness  to  maintain  his 
position.  The  true  nobility  laughed  at  him,  the  talented  repelled 
him  and  the  honorable  instinctively  despised  him.  Such  were  the 
extremities  to  which  the  count  was  driven : the  finger  of  God  once 
pointed  at  him,  every  one  was  prepared  to  raise  the  hue  and  cry 
after  him. 

The  Count  of  Morcerf  alone  was  ignorant  of  the  news.  He  did 
not  take  in  the  paper  containing  the  defamatory  news,  and  entered 
the  house  without  observing  the  hesitation  of  the  door-keepers  or 
the  coolness  of  his  colleagues.  Business  had  already  commenced 
half-an-hour  when  he  entered.  At  length  an  honorable  peer, 
Morcerf  s acknowledged  enemy,  ascended  the  tribune  with  that 
solemnity  which  announced  the  expected  moment  had  arrived. 
There  was  an  imposing  silence  ; Morcerf  alone  knew  not  why  such 
profound  attention  was  given  to  an  orator  who  was  not  always 
listened  to  with  so  much  complacency.  The  count  did  not  notice 
the  introduction,  in  which  the  speaker  announced  that  his  commu- 
nication would  be  of  that  vital  importance  that  it  demanded  the 
undivided  attention  of  the  House  ; but,  at  the  names  Janina  and 
Colonel  Fernand,  he  turned  so  awfully  pale  that  every  member 
shuddered  and  fixed  his  eyes  upon  him.  Moral  wounds  have  this 
peculiarity,  they  conceal  themselves  but  never  close  ; always  pain- 
ful, always  ready  to  bleed  when  touched,  they  remain  fresh  and 
open  in  the  heart. 

Morcerf  was  so  completely  overwhelmed  by  this  enormous  and 
unexpected  calamity  that  he  could  scarcely  stammer  a few  words 
as  he  looked  round  on  the  assembly.  The  president  put  it  to  the 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


387 


Vote,  and  it  was  decided  the  examination  should  take  place.  The 
count  was  asked  what  time  he  required  to  prepare  his  defence. 
Morcerf’s  courage  had  revived  when  he  found  himself  alive  after 
this  horrible  blow.  “ My  lords,”  answered  he,  “it  is  not  by  time 
I could  repel  the  attack  made  on  me  by  enemies  unknown  to  me, 
and,  doubtless,  hidden  in  obscurity  ; it  is  immediately  ! ” 

A committee  of  twelve  members  were  chosen  to  examine  the 
proofs  brought  forward  by  Morcerf.  The  examination  would  com- 
mence at  eight  o’clock  that  evening  in  the  committee-room,  and, 
if  it  were  necessary  to  postpone  it,  it  would  be  resumed  each  even- 
ing at  the  same  hour.  Morcerf  asked  leave  to  retire  ; he  had  to 
collect  the  documents  he  had  long  been  preparing  against  this 
storm,  which  his  sagacity  had  foreseen. 

At  eight  o’clock  all  were  in  their  places,  and  M.  de  Morcerf  en- 
tered at  the  last  stroke.  He  produced  documents,  proving  that 
the  Vizier  of  Janina  had,  to  the  last  moment,  honored  him  with 
his  entire  confidence,  since  he  had  entrusted  him  with  a negotia- 
tion of  life  and  death  with  the  emperor.  He  produced  the  ring, 
his  mark  of  authority,  with  which  Ali  Pacha  generally  sealed  his 
letters,  and  which  the  latter  had  given  him  that  he  might,  on  his 
return  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night,  or  even  in  his  harem,  gain 
access  to  him.  Unfortunately,  the  negotiation  failed,  and  when 
he  returned  to  defend  his  benefactor,  he  was  dead.  “ But,”  said 
the  count,  “ so  great  was  Ali  Pacha’s  confidence,  that,  on  his 
death-bed,  he  resigned  his  favorite  mistress  and  her  daughter  to 
my  care.” 

Meanwhile,  the  president  carelessly  opened  a letter  which  had 
been  brought  tohim  ; but  the  first  lines  aroused  his  attention  : he 
read  them  again  and  again,  and  fixing  his  eyes  on  M.  de  Morcerf, 
asked,  “ you  say  the  Vizier  confided  his  wife  and  daughter  to  your 
care  ? ” 

“ Yes,  sir,”  replied  Morcerf,  “but  in  that,  like  all  the  rest,  mis- 
fortune pursued  me ; on  my  return,  Basiliki  and  her  daughter 
Haydee  has  disappeared.” 

“ Have  you  any  idea  what  is  become  of  them?  ” 

“ Yes,  sir  ; I heard  they  had  fallen  victims  to  their  sorrow,  and, 
perhaps,  to  their  poverty.  I was  not  rich  ; my  life  was  in  constant 
danger  ; I could  not  seek  them,  to  my  great  regret.”  The  presi- 
dent frowned  imperceptibly.  “ Gentlemen,”  said  he,  “you  have 
heard  the  defence.  Can  you,  my  lord,  produce  any  witnesses  to 
the  truth  of  what  you  have  asserted?” “Alas!  no,  sir,”  re- 

plied the  count,  “ ail  those  who  surrounded  the  vizier,  or  who 
knew  me  at  his  court,  are  either  dead  or  scattered  ; alone,  I be- 
lieve, of  all  my  countrymen,  I survived  that  dreadful  war  : I have 
only  the  letters  of  Ali  Tebelen,  which  I have  placed  before  you  ; 
the  ring,  a token  of  his  good-will,  which  is  here  ; and,  lastly,  the 
most  convincing  proof  I can  offer,  namely,  after  an  anonymous  at- 
tack. the  absence  of  ali  witness  against  my  veracity  and  the  purity 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO, 


3SS 

of  my  military  life.**  A murmur  ot  approbation  ran  through  the 
assembly.  It  only  remained  to  put  it  to  the  vote,  wkn  the  presi- 
dent resumed  : 88  Gentlemen,  and  you,  my  lord,  you  will  not  be 
displeased,  I persume,  to  listen  to  one  who  calls  himseh' a very  im- 
portant witness,  and  who  has  just  presented  himself.  He  is,  doubt- 
less, come  to  prove  the  perfect  innocence  of  our  colleague.  Here 
is  a letter  I have  just  received  on  the  subject ; shall  it  be  read,  or 
shall  it  be  passed  over? and  shall  we  not  regard  this  incident?’* 
|M.  de  Morcerf  turned  pale,  and  clenched  his  hands  on  the  papers 
lie  held.  The  committee  decided  to  hear  die  letter  ; the  count  was 
thoughtful  and  silent. 

The  door-keeper  was  called.  ••  Is  there  any  one  in  the  lobby  r 69 
said  the  president. 

A female,  accompanied  by  a servant.**  Every  one  looked  at 
his  neighbor.  ••  Introduce  the  female,**  said  the  president.  Five 
minutes  after,  the  door-keeper  again  appeared  : all  eyes  were  fixed 
on  the  door.  Behind  the  door-keeper  walked  a female  enveloped 
in  a large  veil,  which  completely  concealed  her.  It  was  evident, 
from  her  figure  and  the  perfumes  she  had  about  her,  that  this  was 
a young  and  elegant  woman,  but  that  was  all.  The  president  re- 
quested her  to  throw  aside  her  veil,  and  it  was  then  seen  she  was 
dressed  in  the  Grecian  costume,  and  was  remarkably  beautiful. 

The  president  himself  advanced  to  place  a seat  for  the  young 
lady  ; but  she  declined  availing  herself  of  it.  As  for  the  count,  he 
had  fallen  on  his  chair  ; it  was  evident  his  legs  refused  to  support 
him. 

81  Madam,’*  said  the  president,  88  you  have  engaged  to  furnish 
the  committee  with  some  important  particulars  respecting  the  affair 
at  Janina,  and  you  have  stated  that  you  were  an  eye-witness  of 

the  events.** “I  was,  indeed!  **  said  the  stranger,  with  a tone  of 

sweet  melancholy,  and  with  the  sonorous  voice  peculiar  to  the 
East. 

V I am  Haydee,  the  daughter  of  Ali  Tebelen,  Pasha  of  Janina, 
and  of  Basiliki,  his  beloved  wife.** 

The  blush  of  mingled  pride  and  modesty  which  suddenly 
suffused  the  cheeks  of  the  young  female,  the  brilliancy  of  her 
eye,  and  her  highly  important  communication,  produced  an  inex. 
pressible  effect  on  the  assembly.  As  for  the  count,  he  could  not 
have  been  more  overwhelmed  if  a thunderbolt  had  fallen  at  his 
feet  and  opened  before  him  an  immense  gulf. 

Haydee,  still  calm,  but  whose  calmness  was  more  dreadful 
than  the  anger  of  another  would  have  been,  handed  to  the  presi- 
dent the  record  of  her  sale,  registered  in  Arabic.  It  had  been 
supposed  some  of  these  papers  might  be  in  the  Arabic,  Romaic,  or 
Turkish  language,  and  the  intepreter  of  the  House  was  in  attend, 
ance.  One  of  the  noble  peers,  who  was  familiar  with  the  Arabian 
language,  having  studied  it  during  an  Egyptian  campaign,  fol* 
owed  with  his  eye  as  the  translator  read  it  aloud. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  389 


A dreadful  silence  succeded  the  reading  of  this  paper. 

The  count  had  not  uttered  one  word  the  whole  of  this  time. 
His  colleagues  looked  at  him,  and  doubtless  pitied  his  blighted 
prospects,  which  sank  under  the  perfumed  breath  of  a woman. 
His  misery  was  depicted  by  sinister  lines  on  his  countenance. 
«*  M.  de  Morcerf,”  said  the  president,  “ do  you  recognize  this  lady 
as  the  daughter  of  Ali  Tebelen,  Pasha  of  Janina?  ” — — “ No,”  said 
Morcert,  attempting  to  rise  ; “ it  is  a base  plot,  contrived  by  my 
enemies.”  Hay  dee,  whose  eyes  had  been  fixed  upon  the  door,  as 
if  expecting  some  one,  turned  hastily,  and,  seeing  the  count, 
shrieked,  “ You  do  not  know  me  ? ” said  she.  “ Well,  I fortunately 
recognize  you  ! You  are  Fernand  Mondego,  the  French  officer, 
who  led  the  troops  of  my  noble  father ! you  surrendered  the  Castle 
of  Janina  ! you  sent  by  him  to  Constantinople,  to  treat  with  the 
emperor  for  the  life  or  death  of  your  benefactor,  brought  back  a 
false  mandate  granting  full  pardon  ! you  with  that,  obtained  the 
pacha’s  ring,  which  gave  you  authority  over  Selim,  the  fire- 
keeper  ! you  who  stabbed  Selim ! you  sold  us,  my  mother  and  me, 
to  the  slave  merchant,  El-Kobbir  ! \ssassin  ! you  have  still  on 
your  brow  your  master’s  blood  ! Look,  gentlemen,  all ! ” 

These  words  had  been  pronouncec  with  such  enthusiasm  and 
evident  truth  that  they  completely  changed  the  opinion  of  the  as* 
sembly  respecting  the  accused  nobleman. 

The  count  looked  round  him  with  an  expression  which  mighl 
have  softened  tigers,  but  which  could  nQt  disarm  his  judges.  Then 
he  raised  his  eyes  toward  the  ceiling,  but  withdrew  them  imme- 
diately, as  if  he  feared  the  roof  would  open  and  reveal  to  his  dis- 
tressed view  that  second  tribunal  called  heaven,  and  that  other 
judge  named  God.  Then,  was  a hasty  movement,  he  tore  open 
his  coat,  which  seemed  to  stifle  him,  and  flew  from  the  room  like  a 
madman  ; his  footstep  with  heard  one  moment  in  the  corridor,  then 
the  rattling  of  his  carriage-wheels  as  he  was  driven  rapidly  away. 
“Gentlemen,”  said  the  president,  when  silence  was  restored,  “js, 
the  Count  of  Morcerf  convicted  of  felony.,  treason,  and  outrage?  ” 
- — “Yes,”  replied  all  the  members  of  the  committee  of  inquiry 
with  a unanimous  voice. 


CHAPTER  LV. 

THE  PUBLIC  INSULT. 

On  hearing  this  affair,  Albert  did  not  wait  to  consult  with  his 
father  but  flew  to  challenge  Danglars,  who  he  learned  had  sup- 
plied the  information  to  the  press.  As  may  readily  be  believed, 
here  was  no  disposition  in  the  banker  to  go  out  on  the  held  ; he 


390 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


hastened  to  cover  himself  with  the  declaration  that  Monte-Cristo 
has  put  him  on  the  course  to  write  to  Janina. 

Albert,  accompanied  by  Beauchamp,  proceeded  to  the  latter  s 
residence. 

Beauchamp  wished  to  go  in  alone  ; but  Albert  observed,  as  this 
was  an  unusual  circumstance,  he  might  be  allowed  to  deviate 
from  the  etiquette  of  duels.  The  cause  which  the  young  man 
espoused  was  one  so  sacred,  that  Beauchamp  had  only  to  com- 
ply with  all  his  wishes  : he  yielded,  and  contented  himself  with 
following  Morcerf.  Albert  bounded  from  the  porter’s  lodge  to  the 
steps.  He  was  received  by  Baptistin.  The  count  had,  indeed, 
just  arrived,  but  he  was  bathing,  and  had  forbidden  that  any  one 
should  be  admitted.  “ But  after  his  bath  ? ” asked  Morcerf. 

“ He  is  going  to  the  opera.”  ^ 

“ Very  good,”  replied  Albert ; “ that  is  all  I wished  to  know.” 
Then,  turning  toward  Beauchamp,  “if  you  have  anything  to  at- 
tend to,  Beauchamp,  do  it  directly  ; If  you  have  any  appointment 
for  this  evening,  defer  it  till  to-morrow.  I depend  on  you  to  ac- 
company me  to  the  opera ; and,  if  you  can,  bring  Chateau- 
Renaud  with  you.” 

Beauchamp  availed  himself  of  Albert’s  permission,  and  left  him, 
promising  to  call  for  him  at  a quarter  before  eight.  On  his  return 
home,  Albert  expressed  his  wish  to  Franz,  Debray,  and  Morrel,  to 
see  them  at  the  opera  that  evening.  Then  he  went  to  see  his 
mother,  who,  since  the  events  of  the  day  before,  had  refused  to 
see  any  one,  and  had  kept  her  room.  He  found  her  in  bed, 
overwhelmed  with  grief  at  this  public  humiliation.  The  sight  of 
Albert  produced  the  effect  which  might  naturally  be  expected  on 
Mercedes  ; she  pressed  her  son’s  hand,  and  sobbed  aloud  ; but 
her  tears  relieved  her.  Albert  stood  one  moment  speechless  by 
the  side  of  his  mother’s  bed.  It  was  evident,  from  his  pale  and 
face  and  knit  brows,  that  his  resolution  to  revenge  himself  was 
growing  weaker.  “My  dear  mother,”  said  he,  “do  you  know 
if  M.  de  Morcerf  has  any  enemy?”  Mercedes  started;  she 
noticed  that  the  young  man  did  not  say  “my  father.”  “My 
son,”  she  said,  “persons  in  the  count’s  situation  have  many 
secret  enemies.  Those  who  are  known  are  not  the  most  dan- 
gerous. You  noticed,  on  the  eveningof  the  ball  we  gave,  M.  de 
Monte-Cristo  would  eat  nothing  in  our  house.”  Mercedes  raised 
herself  on  her  feverish  arm.  “ M.  de  Monte-Cristo!”  she  ex- 
claimed; “and  how  is  he  connected  with  the  question  you  asked 
me?” 

“ You  know,  my  mother,  M.  de  Monte-Cristo  is  almost  an 
Oriental,  and  it  is  customary  with  them  to  secure  full  liberty  of 
revenge  by  not  eating  or  drinking  in  the  house  of  their 
enemies.” 

“Do  you  say  M.  de  Monte-Cristo  is  our  enemy  ?”  replied 
Mercedes,  becoming  paler  than  the  sheet  which  covered  her. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


39* 


••Who  told  you  so?  Why,  you  are  mad,  Albert!  M.  de  Monte- 
Cristo  has  only  shown  us  kindness.  M.  de  Monte-Cristo  saved 
your  life  ; you,  yourself,  presented  him  to  us.  Oh  ! I entreat  you, 
my  son,  if  you  had  entertained  such  an  idea,  dispel  it  ; and  my 
counsel  to  you — even  more,  my  prayer,  is,  retain  this  friend- 
ship.” 

An  ironical  smile  passed  over  Albert’s  lips.  Mercedes  saw  it, 
and,  with  her  double  instinct  of  a woman  and  a mother,  she 
guessed  all,  but,  prudent  and  strong-minded,  she  concealed  both 
her  sorrows  and  her  fears.  Albert  was  silent ; an  instant  after* 
the  countess  resumed  : “You  came  to  inquire  after  my  health  ; 

l will  candidly  acknowledge  I am  not  well.  You  should  install 
yourself  here  and  sheer  my  solitude.  I do  not  wish  to  be  left 
alone.” 

“ Mother,”  said  the  young  man,  ••  you  know  how  gladly  I 
would  obey  your  wish ; but  an  urgent  and  important  affair  obliges 
me  to  leave  you  the  whole  evening.” 

“Well!”  replied  Mercedes,  sighing ; "go,  Albert,  I will  not 
make  you  a slave  to  your  filial  piety.”  Albert  pretended  he  did 
not  hear,  bowed  to  his  mother,  and  went  to  his  room,  and  dressed 
with  unusual  care.  At  ten  minutes  to  eight  Beauchamp  arrived  ; 
he  had  seen  Chateau-Renaud,  who  had  promised  to  be  in  the 
orchestra  before  the  curtain  was  raised. 

Albert  wandered  about  the  theatre  until  the  curtain  was  drawn 
up.  He  hoped  to  meet  with  Monte-Cristo  either  in  the  lobby  or 
on  the  stairs.  The  bell  summoned  him  to  his  seat,  and  he  entered 
the  orchestra  with  Chateau-Renaud  and  Beauchamp.  But  his 
eyes  scarcely  quitted  the  box  between  the  columns,  which  re- 
mained obstinately  closed  during  the  whole  of  the  first  act.  At 
last,  as  Albert  was  looking  at  his  watch,  about  the  hundredth 
time,  at  the  commencement  of  the  second  act  the  door  opened, 
and  Monte-Cristo,  dressed  in  black,  entered,  and  leaning  over  the 
front  of  the  box,  looked  round  the  pit.  Morrel  followed  him8 
and  looked  also  for  his  sister  and  brother-in-law  ; he  soon  dis- 
covered them  in  another  box,  and  kissed  his  hand  to  them. 

The  count,  in  his  survey  of  the  pit,  encountered  a pale  face  and 
threatening  eyes,  which  evidently  sought  to  gain  his  attention. 
He  recognized  Albert,  but  thought  it  better  not  to  notice  him,  as  he 
looked  so  angry  and  discomposed.  Without  communicating  his 
tnouglits  to  h\3  companion,  he  sat  down,  drew  out  his  opera-glass, 
and  looked  another  way.  Although  apparently  not  noticing 
Albert,  he  did  not,  however,  lose  sight  of  him  ; and  when  the 
curtain  fell  at  the  end  of  the  second  act,  he  saw  him  leave  the 
orchestra  with  his  two  friends.  Then  his  head  was  seen  passing 
at  the  back  of  the  boxes,  and  the  count  knew  the  approaching 
storm  was  intended  to  fall  on  him.  He  was  at  the  moment  con- 
versing cheerfully  with  Morrel,  but  he  was  well  prepared  for  what 
might  happen.  The  door  opened,  and  Monte-Cristo,  turning 


J92  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 

round,  saw  Albert,  pale  and  trembling,  followed  by  Beauchamp 
and  Chateau-Renaud. 

“ Well,”  cried  he,  with  that  benevolent  politeness  which  dis- 
tinguished his  salutation  from  the  common  civilities  of  the  world, 
‘‘my  cavalier  has  attained  his  object.  Good  evening,  M.  de 
Morcerf.”  The  countenance  of  this  man,  who  possessed  such 
extraordinary  control  over  his  feelings,  expressed  the  most  per- 
fect cordiality.  Morrel  only  then  recollected  the  letter  he  had 
received  from  the  viscount,  in  which,  without  assigning  any  rea- 
son, he  begged  him  to  go  to  the  opera,  but  he  understood  that 
something  terrible  was  brooding. 

“We  are  not  come  here,  sir,  to  exchange  hypocritical  expres- 
sions of  politeness,  or  false  professions  of  friendship/*  said  Albert, 
“ but  to  demand  an  explanation,  count/*  The  trembling  voice 
of  the  young  man  was  scarcely  audible.  “ An  explanation  at  the 
opera?  ’*  said  the  count,  with  that  calm  tone  and  penetrating  eye 
which  characterizes  the  man  who  knows  his  cause  is  good.  “ Little 
acquainted  as  I am  with  the  habits  of  Parisians,  I should  not  have 

thought  this  the  place  for  such  a demand.” “ Still,  if  people 

will  shut  themselves  up/*  said  Albert,  “and  cannot  be  seen  be- 
cause they  are  bathing,  dining,  or  asleep,  we  must  avail  ourselves 
the  opportunity  whenever  they  are  to  be  seen/* 

“ I am  not  difficult  of  access,  sir/*  These  words  were  heard 
by  those  in  the  adjoining  boxes  and  in  the  lobby.  Thus  the  at- 
tention of  many  was  attracted  by  this  altercation.  “Where  are 
you  come  from,  sir?  You  do  not  appear  to  be  in  the  possession  ol 
your  senses.” 

“ Provided  I understand  your  perfidy,  sir,  and  succeed  in  mak- 
ing you  understand  that  I will  be  revenged,  I shall  be  sane 
enough/*  said  Albert,  furiously. 

“I  do  not  understand  you,  sir,”  replied  Monte-Cristo ; “and 
if  I did,  your  tone  is  too  high.  I am  at  home  here,  and  I alone 
have  a right  to  raise  my  voice  above  another’s,  l^eave  the  box, 
sir!  **  Monte-Cristo  pointed  toward  the  door  with  the  most  com* 
manding  ^dignity.  “Ah!  I shall  know  how  to  make  you  leave 
your  home  ! ” replied  Albert,  clasping  in  his  convulsed  grasp  the 

glove,  which  Monte-Cristo  did  not  lose  sight  of. “ Well,  well ! ’* 

said  Monte-Cristo,  quietly,  “ I see  you  wish  to  quarrel  with  me  ; 
but  I would  give  you  one  counsel,  and  do  not  forget  it : it  is  a bad 
habit  to  make  a display  of  a challenge.  Public  display  is  not  be- 
coming to  every  one,  M.  de  Morcerf.”  At  this  name  a murmur 
of  astonishment  passed  round  the  group  of  spectators  of  this 
scene.  They  had  talked  of  no  one  but  Morcerf  the  whole  day. 
Albert  understood  the  allusion  in  a moment,  and  was  about  to 
throw  his  glove  at  the  count,  when  Morrel  seized  his  hand,  while 
Beauchamp  and  Chateau-Renaud,  fearing  the  scene  would  sur- 
pass the  limits  of  a challenge,  held  him  back.  But  Monte-Cristo, 
Without  rising,  and  leaning  forward  in  his  chair,  merely  extende4 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


m 


his  hand,  and  taking  the  damp,  crushed  glove  from  the  clenched 
hand  of  the  young  man, — “Sir,”  said  he,  jn  a solemn  tone,  “l 
consider  your  glove  thrown,  and  will  return  it  you  round  a bullet. 
Now,  leave  me,  or  I will  summon  my  servants  to  throw  you  out 
at  the  door." 

Wild,  almost  unconscious,  and  with  eyes  inflamed,  Albert 
stepped  back,  and  Morrel  closed  the  door.  Monte-Cristo  took  up 
his  glass  again  as  if  npthing  had  happened  : he  certainly  must 
h?ve  had  a heart  of  brass  and  face  of  marble.  Morrel  whispered, 
*4  What  have  you  done  to  him  ? " 

41  The  Count  de  Morcerfs  downfall  exasperates  the  young 
man." 

44  Have  you  anything  to  do  with  it  ? " 

“It  was  by  Haydee  the  house  was  informed  of  his  father’s 
treason." 

41  Indeed  ! " said  Morrel.  “ I had  been  told,  but  would  not 
credit  it,  that  the  Greek  slave  I have  seen  with  you  here  in  this 
very  box  was  the  daughter  of  Ali  Pacha." 

44  It  is,  notwithstanding,  true." 

44  Then,"  said  Morrel,  “ I understand  it  all,  and  this  scene  was 
premeditated." “ How  so  ? ” 

“ Yes.  Albert  wrote  to  request  me  to  come  to  the  opera,  doubt- 
less that  I might  be  a witness  to  the  insult  he  meant  to  offer  you." 

11  Probably,"  said  Monte-Cristo,  with  his  imperturbable  tran- 
quility. 

“ But  what  will  you  do  with  him  ? " 

“As  certainly,  Maximilian,  as  I now  press  your  hand,  I will 
kill  him  before  ten  o’clock  to-morrow  morning.” 

Morrel,  in  his  turn,  took  Monte-Cristo’s  hand  in  both  of  his, 
and  he  shuddered  to  feel  how  cold  and  steady  it  was.  He  saw  it 
was  useless  to  say  more,  and  refrained.  The  curtain,  which  had 
been  drawn  up  during  the  scene  with  Albert,  again  fell,  and  a rap 
was  heard  at  the  door. 

“ Come  in ! ” said  Monte-Cristo,  without  his  voice  betraying  the 
least  emotion  ; and  immediately  Beauchamp  appeared. 

•'  I have  come  only  to  make  arrangements  for  the  duel,"  said 
Beauchamp. 

“ It  is  quite  immaterial  to  me,"  said  Monte-Cristo,  44  and  it  was 
very  unnecessary  to  disturb  me  at  the  opera  for  such  a trifle.  Tell 
your  client  that,  although  I am  the  insulted  party,  in  order  to 
carry  out  my  eccentricity,  I leave  him  the  choice  of  arms,  and 
will  accept  without  discussion,  without  dispute,  anything,  even 
combat  by  drawing  lots,  which  is  always  stupid,  but  with  me  dif- 
ferent from  other  people,  as  I am  sure  to  gain.  I shall  kill  him — I 
cannot  help  it.  Only  by  a single  line  this  evening  at  my  house, 
let  me  know  the  arms  and  the  hour  ; I do  not  like  to  be  kept  wait- 
ing."—— “ Pistols,  then,  at  eight  o’clock,  in  the  Bois  de  Vin- 
cennes," said  Beauchamp,  quite  disconcerted,  not  knowing  if  h® 


394 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


was  dealing  with  an  arrogant  braggadocio  or  a supernatural 
being. 

“ Very  well,  sir,”  said  Monte-Cristo.  **  Now  all  that  is  settled, 
do  let  me  see  the  performance,  and  tell  your  friend  Albert  not  to 
come  any  more  this  evening  ; he  will  hurt  himself  with  all  his  ill- 
chosen  barbarisms:  let  him  go  home  and  go  to  sleep.”  Beau- 
champ left  the  box,  perfectly  amazed. 

M.  de  Monte-Cristo  waited,  according  to  his  usual  custom,  until 
(the  tenor  had  sung  his  famous  “ Suivez-moi ; ” then  he  rose,  and 
went  out.  Morrel  took  leave  of  him  at  the  door,  to  be  with  him 
the  next  morning  at  seven  o’clock,  and  to  bring  Emmanuel  with 
him,  as  seconds.  Then  he  stepped  into  his  coupe , calm  and  smiling, 
and  was  at  home  in  five  minutes.  No  one  who  knew  the  count 
could  mistake  his  expression,  when,  on  entering,  he  said,  “ Ali, 
bring  me  my  pistols  with  an  ivory  butt.” 

Ali  brought  the  box  to  his  master,  who  examined  his  arms  with 
a solicitude  very  natural  to  a man  who  is  about  to  intrust  his  life 
to  a little  powder  and  shot.  These  were  saloon  pistols.  A cap 
was  sufficient  to  drive  out  the  ball,  and  from  the  adjoining  room 
no  one  would  have  suspected  the  count  was  keeping  his  hand  in. 
He  was  just  taking  one  in  his  hand,  and  looking  for  the  point  to 
aim  at,  on  a little  iron  plate,  which  served  him  as  a target,  when 
his  cabinet-door  opened,  and  Baptistin  entered.  Before  he  had 
spoken  a word  the  count  perceived  in  the  next  room  a female, 
veiled,  who  had  followed  closely  after  Baptistin,  and  now  seeing 
the  count  with  a pistol  in  his  hand  and  swords  on  the  table,  rushed 
in.  Baptistin  looked  at  his  master,  who  made  a sign  to  him,  and 
he  went  out,  closing  the  door  after  him. 

The  stranger  cast  one  look  around  her,  to  be  certain  they  were 
quite  alone,  then  bending,  as  if  she  would  have  knelt,  and  joining 
her  hands,  she  said,  with  an  accent  of  despair, — “ Edmond,  you 
will  not  kill  my  son?”  The  count  retreated  a step,  uttered  a 
slight  exclamation,  and  let  fall  the  pistol  he  held. 

" What  name  did  you  pronounce  then,  Mdme.  de  Morcerf  ? ” 
said  he. 

" Yours!  ” cried  she,  throwing  back  her  veil, — ••  yours,  which 
I alone,  perhaps,  have  not  forgotten.  Edmond,  it  is  not  Mdme. 

de  Morcerf  who  is  come  to  you,  it  is  Mercedes.” “ Mercedes  is 

dead,  madame,”  said  Monte-Cristo  ; “ I know  no  one  now  of  that 
name.” 

>,  “ Mercedes  lives,  sir,  and  she  remembers,  for  she  alone  recog* 

nized  you  when  she  saw  you,  and  even  before  she  saw  you,  by 
4 your  voice,  Edmond, — by  the  mere  sound  of  your  voice,  and  from 
that  moment  she  has  followed  your  steps,  watched  you,  feared 
you,  and  she  needs  not  to  inquire  what  hand  has  dealt  the  blow 
which 'how  strikes  M.  de  Morcerf.” 

“ Fernand,  do  you  mean?”  replied  Monte-Cristo,  with  bitten 
irony  * “ since  we  are  recalling  names,  let  us  remember  them  alb 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


395 


Monte*Cristo  had  pronounced  the  name  of  Fernand  with  such 
an  expression  of  hatred,  that  Mercedes  felt  a thrill  of  horror  run 
through  every  vein. 

“ You  see,  Edmond,  I am  not  mistaken,  and  have  cause  to  say, 
J Spare  my  son  ! ' ” 

“ Madame,  it  is  not  I who  strike  M.  de  Morcerf ; it  is  Providence 
which  punishes  him.” 

“And  why  do  you  represent  Providence?”  cried  Mercedes. 
“ Why  do  you  remember,  when  it  forgets?  What  are  Janina  and 
its  vizier  to  you,  Edmond?  What  injury  has  Fernand  Mondego 
done  you  in  betraying  Ali  Tebelen  ? ” 

“ And,  madame,”  replied  Monte-Cristo,  “all  this  is  an  affair 
between  the  French  captain  and  the  daughter  of  Basiliki.  It 
does  not  concern  me,  you  are  right  ; and  if  I have  sworn  to  re- 
venge myself,  it  is  not  on  the  French  captain,  nor  on  the  Count 
de  Morcerf,  but  on  the  fisherman  Fernand,  the  husband  of  the 
Catalan  Mercedes.” 

“ Ah  ! sir,”  cried  the  countess,  “ how  terrible  a vengeance  for  a 
fault  which  fatality  made  me  commit ! for  I am  the  only  culprit, 
Edmond  ; and  if  you  owe  revenge  to  any  one,  it  is  to  me,  who 
had  not  fortitude  to  bear  your  absence  and  my  solitude. 

“But,”  exclaimed  Monte-Cristo,  “why  was  I absent?  And 
why  were  you  alone  ? ” 

“ Because  you  had  been  arrested,  Edmond,  and  were  a prisoner.” 

“ And  why  was  I arrested?  Why  was  I a prisoner?  ” 

“ I do  not  know,”  said  Mercedes. 

“ You  do  not,  madame  ; at  least,  I hope  not.  But  I will  tell 
you.  I was  arrested  and  became  a prisoner,  because  in  the 
arbor  of  La  Reserve,  the  day  before  I was  to  marry  you,  a man 
named  Danglars  wrote  this  letter  which  the  fisherman  Fernand 
himself  posted.”  Monte-Cristo  went  to  a secretary,  opened  a 
drawer  by  a spring,  from  which  he  took  a paper  which  had  lost  its 
original  color,  and  the  ink  of  which  had  become  a rusty  hue  ; this 
he  placed  in  the  hands  of  Mercedes.  It  was  Danglars’  letter 
to  the  prosecutor,  which  Monte-Cristo,  disguised  as  a clerk  from  the 
house  of  Thomson  and  French,  had  taken  from  the  bundle  of 
Edmond  Dantes,  on  the  day  he  had  paid  the  two  hundred  thou- 
sand francs  to  M.  de  Boville.  Mercedes  read  with  terror  the  fatal 
lines. 

“ How  dreadful ! ” said  Mercedes,  passing  her  hand  across  hef 
brow,  moist  with  perspiration  ; “ and  that  letter ” 

“ I bought  it  for  two  hundred  thousand  francs,  madame,”  said 
Monte-Cristo  ; “ but  that  is  a trifle,  since  it  enables  me  to  justify 
myself  to  you.” 

“ And  the  result  of  that  letter ” 

“ You  well  know,  madame,  was  my  arrest  ; but  you  do  not 
know  how  long  that  arrest  lasted.  You  do  not  know  that  I re- 
mained for  fourteen  years  within  a quarter  of  a league  of  you,  in 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


396 


1 dungeon  in  the  Chateau  d'lf.  You  (Jo  not  know  that  each  day 
of  those  fourteen  years  I renewed  the  vow  of  vengeance  which  I 
had  made  the  first  day  ; and  yet  I knew  not  you  had  married 
Fernand,  my  libellor,  and  that  my  father  had  died  of  hunger!  " 

44  Can  it  be  ? " cried  Mercedes,  shuddering. 

“That  is  what  1 heard  on  leaving  my  prison,  fourteen  years 
after  I had  entered  it,  and  that  is  why,  on  account  of  the  living 
Mercedes  and  my  deceased  father,  I have  sworn  to  revenge 
myself  on  Fernand,  and — I have  revenged  myself.' * 

“ And  you  are  sure  the  unhappy  Fernand  did  that?  " 

“ I am  satisfied,  madame,  he  did  what  I have  told  you;  be- 
sides, that  is  not  much  more  shameful  than  a Frenchman,  by 
adoption,  having  passed  over  to  the  English  ; a Spaniard,  by 
birth,  having  fought  against  the  Spaniards  ; a stipendiary  of  Ali 
having  betrayed  and  murdered  Ali.  Compared  with  such  things, 
what  is  the  letter  you  have  just  read?  A lover’s  deception,  which 
the  woman  who  has  married  that  man  ought  certainly  to  forgive, 
but  not  so  the  lover  who  was  to  have  married  her.  Well ! the 
French  did  not  avenge  themselves  on  the  traitor  ; the  Spaniards 
did  not  shoot  the  traitor  ; Ali,  in  his  grave,  left  the  traitor  un- 
punished ; but  I,  betrayed,  sacrificed,  buried,  have  risen  from  my 
grave,  by  the  grace  of  God,  to  punish  that  man.  tie  sends  me 
for  that  purpose,  and  here  I am."  The  poor  woman's  head  and 
arms  fell ; and  she  fell  on  her  knees.  4 Forgive,  Edmond,  forgive 
for  my  sake,  who  love  you  still ! " 

The  dignity  of  the  wife  stopped  the  enthusiasm  c f the  lover  and 
the  mother.  Her  forehead  almost  touched  the  a rpet,  when  the 
count  sprang  forward  and  raised  her. 

The  count,  fearing  to  yield  to  the  entreaties  of  her  he  had  so 
ardently  loved,  recalled  his  sufferings  to  the  assistance  of  his 
hatred.  , 

“ Revenge  yourself  then,  Edmond,"  cried  the  poor  mother ; 
“ but  let  your  vengeance  fall  on  the  culprits  ; on  him,  on  me,  but 
^not  on  my  son  ! " Monte-Cristo  groaned,  and  seized  his  beauti- 
ful hair  with  both  hands. 


f “Edmond,"  continued  Mercedes,  with  her  arms  extended 
toward  the  count,  44  since  I first  knew  you,  I have  adored  your 
name,  have  respected  your  memory.  Edmond,  my  friend,  do  not 
compel  me  to  tarnish  that  noble  and  fine  image  reflected  inces- 
santly on  the  mirror  of  my  heart.  Edmond,  if  you  knew  all  the 
prayers  I have  addressed  to  God  for  you  while  I thought  you  were 
living  and  since  I have  thought  you  must  be  dead!  Yes,  dead, 
alas ! And  I,  too,  Edmond — oh  ! believe  me — guilty  as  I was— 
oh  ! yes,  I too,  have  suffered  much  ! " 

'*  Have  you  guessed  that  your  father  died  in  your  absence  ? '* 
cried  Monte-Cristo,  again  thrusting  his  hands  in  his  hair  ; “haye 
you  seen  the  woman  you  loved  giving  her  hand  to  your  rival  whil® 
you  were  perishing  at  the  bottom  of  a dungeon  ? " 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CPUS  TO , 


39? 


“ No/*  interrupted  Mercedes,  *‘but  I have  seen  him  whom  3 
loved  on  the  point  of  murdering  my  son.'1  Mercedes  pronounced 
these  words  with  such  deep  anguish,  with  an  accent  of  such  in- 
tense despair,  that  Monte-Cristo  could  not  restrain  a sob.  The 
lion  was  daunted;  the  avenger  was  conquered.  “What  do  you 
ask  of  me  ? ” said  he, — “ your  son’s  life  ? Well ! he  shall  live  ! ” 
Mereedes  uttered  a cry  which  made  the  tears  start  from  Monte- 
Cristo’ s eyes  ; but  these  tears  disappeared  almost  instantaneously, 
for,  doubtless,  God  had  sent  some  angel  to  collect  them  ; far  more 
precious  were  they  in  his  eyes  than  the  richest  pearls  of  Guzeral 
and  of  Ophir. 

“ Oh ! ” said  she,  seizing  the  count’s  hand,  and  raising  it  to  hef 
lips ; “ oh  ! thank  you,  thank  you,  Edmond  ! now  you  are  exactly 
what  I dreamt  you  were,  such  as  I always  loved  you.  Oh  ! now 
I may  say  so.” 

“So  much  the  better,”  replied  Monte-Cristo;  “as  that  poor 
Edmond  will  not  have  long  to  be  loved  by  you.  Death  is  about 
to  return  to  the  tomb,  the  phantom  to  retire  in  darkness.  You  do 
not  suppose,  that  publicly  outraged  in  the  face  of  a whole  theatre, 
in  the  presence  of  your  friends  and  those  of  your  son — challenged 
by  a boy,  who  will  glory  in  my  pardon  as  in  a victory — you  do  not 
suppose  I can  for  one  moment  wish  to  live.  What  I most  loved 
after  you,  Mercedes,  was  myself,  my  dignity,  and  that  strength 
which  rendered  me  superior  to  other  men  ; that  strength  was  my 
life.  With  one  word  you  have  crushed  it,  and  I die.” 

“ But  the  duel  will  not  take  place,  Edmond,  since  you  forgive  ? " 
“ It  will  take  place,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  in  a most  solemn  tone' 
“but  instead  of  your  son’s  blood  which  will  stain  the  ground,  min 
will  flow.” 

“ Edmond,”  said  Mercedes,  “ I have  but  one  word  more  to  say 
to  you,  though  you  will  see  my  face  is  pale,  my  eyes  dull,  my 
beauty  gone  ; Mercedes,  in  short,  no  longer  resembles  her  forme! 
self,  though  her  heart  is  still  the  same.  Adieu,  then,  Edmond  ; 1 
have  nothing  more  to  ask  of  Heaven — I have  seen  you  again— 
and  have  found  you  as  noble  and  as  great  as  formerly  you  were, 
Adieu.  Edmond,  adieu,  and  thank  you.” 

The  clock  struck  one  when  the  carriage  which  conveyed  Mdme, 
de  Morcerf  away  rolled  on  the  pavement  and  made  Monte-Cristo 
raise  his  head.  *'  What  a fool  I was,”  said  he,  “ not  to  tear  my 
heart  out  on  the  day  when  I resolved  to  avenge  myself  I M 


CHAPTER  LVI. 

THE  ENCOUNTER* 

AFTER  Merc£d£s  had  left  Monte-Cristo,  a gloomy  shadow 
Seemed  to  overspread  everything.  Around  him  and  within  him 


398  * THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


the  flight  of  tnought  appeared  stopped  ; his  energetic  mind  slum- 
bered,  as  does  the  body  after  extreme  fatigue.  “ What,”  said  he 
to  himself,  while  the  lamp  and  the  wax  lights  were  nearly  burnt 
out,  and  the  servants  were  waiting  impatiently  in  the  anteroom  ; 
“ what ! this  edifice  which  I have  been  so  long  preparing — which 
I have  reared  with  so  much  care  and  toil,  is  to  be  crumbled  by  a 
single  touch,  a word,  even  a slight  breath  ! Yes,  this  creature  of 
whom  I thought  so  much,  I was  so  proud,  after  appearing  so 
worthless  in  the  dungeons  of  the  Chateau  d’lf,  and  whom  1 had 
succeeded  in  making  so  great,  will  be  but  a lump  of  clay  to-mor- 
row. Alas ! it  is  not  the  death  of  the  body  I regret ; but  the  ruin 
of  projects,  so  slowly  carried  out,  so  laboriously  framed.  Provi- 
dence is  now  opposed  to  them,  when  I most  thought  it  would  be 
propitious.  It  is  not  God’s  will  they  should  be  accomplished. 
This  burden,  almost  as  heavy  as  a world,  which  I had  raised,  and 
I had  thought  to  bear  to  the  end,  was  too  great  for  my  strength, 
and  I was  compelled  to  lay  it  down  in  the  middle  of  my  career. 
And  all  this — all  this,  because  my  heart,  which  I thought  dead, 
was  only  sleeping  ; because  it  has  awoke  and  has  beaten  again ; 
because  I have  yielded  to  the  pain  of  the  emotion  excited  in  my 
breast  by  a woman’s  voice. 

“ Folly  ! to  carry  generosity  so  far  as  to  place  myself  as  a mark 
for  that  young  man  to  aim  at.  He  will  never  believe  my  death 
was  a suicide  ; and  yet  it  is  important  for  the  honor  of  my  mem- 
mory, — and  this,  surely,  is,  not  vanity,  but  a justifiable  pride, — it 
is  important  the  world  should  know  that  I have  consented,  by  my 
free  will,  to  stop  my  arm,  already  raised  to  strike,  and  that  with 
that  arm,  so  powerful  against  others,  I have  struck  myself.  It 
must  be,  it  shall  be.”  Seizing  a pen,  he  drew  a paper  from  a 
secret  drawer  in  his  bureau,  and  traced  at  the  bottom  of  that 
paper,  which  was  no  other  than  his  will,  drawn  since  his  arrival  in 
Paris,  a codicil,  clearly  explaining  the  nature  of  his  death.  **  I do 
this,  O my  God!  ” said  he,  with  his  eyes  raised  to  heaven,  “as 
much  for  Thy  honor  as  for  mine.  I have  during  ten  years  con* 
sidered  myself  the  agent  of  Thy  vengeance  ; and  other  wretches, 
like  a Morcerf,  a Danglars,  a Villefort,  even  that  Morcerf  himself, 
must  not  imagine  that  chance  has  freed  them  from  their  enemy. 
Let  them  know,  on  the  contrary,  that  their  punishment,  which  had 
been  decreed  by  Providence,  is  only  delayed  by  my  present  determ- 
ination ; and  although  they  escape  it  in  this  world,  it  awaits  them 
in  another,  and  that  they  are  only  exchanging  time  for  eternity.” 

While  he  was  thus  agitated  by  these  gloomy  uncertainties,  these 
wretched  waking  dreauns  of  grief,  the  first  rays  of  twilight  pierced 
his  windows,  and  shone  upon  the  pale  blue  paper  on  which  he  had 
just  traced  his  justification  of  Providence.  It  was  just  five 
o’clock  in  the  morning,  when  a slight  noise  reached  his  ear,  which 
appeared  like  a stifled  sigh  ; he  turned  his  head,  looked  around 
him,  and  saw  no  one  ; but  t he  sound  was  repeated  distinctly 


^2 


enough  to  convince  him  of  its  reality.  He  arose,  and  quietly 
(Opening  the  door  of  the  drawing-room,  saw  Haydee,  who  had 
fallen  on  a chair  with  her  arms  hanging  down,  and  her  beautiful 
head  thrown  back.  She  had  been  standing  at  the  door  to  prevent 
his  going  out  without  seeing  her,  until  sleep,  which  the  young  can- 
not resist,  had  overpowered  her  frame,  wearied  as  she  was  with  T 
watching  so  long.  The  noise  of  the  door  did  not  awaken  her,  and 
Monte-Cristo  gazed  at  her  with  affectionate  regret.  “ She  remem- 
bered she  had  a son,’'  said  he  ; " and  I forgot  I had  a daughter.” 
Then,  shaking  his  head  sorrowfully,  " Poor  Haydee!  ” said  he  ; 

" she  wished  to  see  me  to  speak  to  me,  she  has  feared  or  guessed 
something.  Oh ! I cannot  go  without  taking  leave  of  her  ; I can- 
not die  without  confiding  her  to  some  one.”  He  quietly  regained 
his  seat,  and  wrote  under  the  other  lines, — 

" I bequeath  to  Maximilian  Morrel,  captain,  and  son  of  my 
former  patron,  Pierre  Morrel,  shipowner  at  Marseilles,  the  sum  of 
twenty  millions,  a part  of  which  may  be  offered  to  his  sister  Julia 
and  brother-in-law  Emmanuel,  if  he  does  not  fear  this  increase  of 
fortune  may  mar  their  happiness.  These  twenty  millions  are  con- 
cealed in  my  cave  at  Monte-Cristo,  of  which  Bertuccio  knows  the 
secret.  If  his  heart  is  free,  and  he  will  marry  Haydee,  the  daugh- 
ter of  Ali,  pasha  of  Janina,  whom  I have  brought  up  with  the  love 
of  a father,  and  who  has  shown  the  love  and  tenderness  of  a 
daughter  for  me,  he  will  thus  accomplish  my  last  wish.  This  will 
has  already  constituted  Haydee  heiress  of  the  rest  of  my  fortune  ; 
which,  without  the  twenty  millions,  and  the  legacies  to  my  serv- 
ants, may  still  amount  to  sixty  millions.”  < 

He  was  finishing  the  last  line  when  a cry  behind  him  made  him 
start,  and  the  pen  fell  from  his  hrnd,  “ Haydee,”  said  he,  “ did 
you  read  it  ? ” 

" Oh!  my  lord,”  said  she,  " why  are  you  writing  thus  at  such 
an  hour?  why  are  you  bequeathing  all  your  fortune  to  me?  Are 
you  going  to  leave  me  ? M 

" I am  going  on  a journey,  dear  child,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  with 
an  expression  of  infinite  tenderness  and  melancholy  ; “ and  if  any 
misfortune  should  happen  to  me ” The  count  stopped.  , 

"Well!  if  you  die,”  said  she,  "bequeath  your  fortune  to 
others;  for,  if  you  die  I shall  require  nothing  ; ” and,  taking  the 
paper,  she  tore  it  in  pieces  and  threw  it  into  the  middle  of  the  room. 
Then,  the  effort  having  exhausted  her  strength,  she  fell,  not  asleep 
this  time,  but  fainting  on  the  floor. 

" Alas  ! ” murmured  he,  writh  intense  suffering  ; "I  might  then 
have  been  happy  yet.”  Then  he  carried  Haydee  to  her  room, 
resigned  her  to  the  care  of  her  attendants,  and  returning  to  his 
cabinet,  which  he  shut  quickly  this  time,  he  again  copied  the  de- 
stroyed will.  As  he  was  finishing,  the  sound  of  a cab  entering 
the  yard  was  heard.  Monte-Cristo  approached  the  window,  and 
saw  Maximilian  and  Emmanuel  alight.  " Good  ! ” said  he  ; "it 


400 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


v/as  time,”  and  he  sealed  his  will.  One  moment  afterwards  he 
heard  a noise  in  the  drawing-room,  and  went  to  open  the  door 
himself.  Morrel  was  there,  he  had  come  twenty  minutes  before 
the  time  appointed.  44  I am,  perhaps,  come  too  soon,  count,’* 
said  he,  44  but  I frankly  acknowledge,  I have  not  closed  my  eyes 
all  night,  nor  any  one  in  my  house.  I required  to  see  you  strong 
in  your  courageous  asshrance,  to  recover  myself.”  Monte-Cristo 
could  not  resist  this  proof  of  affection,  he  not  only  extended  his 
hand  to  the  young  man,  but  flew  to  him  with  open  arms.  “ Mor- 
rel,” said  he,  14  it  is  a happy  day  for  trie,  to  feel  I am  beloved  by 
such  a man  as  you.  Good  morning,  Emmanuel ; you  will  come 
with  me  then,  Maximilian?” 

" Did  you  doubt  it  ? ” said  the  young  captain. 

44  But  if  I were  wrong ” 

•*  I watched  you  during  the  whole  scene  of  that  challenge 
yesterday  ; I have  been  thinking  of  your  firmness  all  this  night, 
and  I said,  4 Justice  must  be  on  your  side,  or  man’s  countenance 
is  no  longer  to  be  relied  on.’  ” 

Then  ringing  the  bell  once,  44  Look,”  said  the  count  to  Ali,  who 
came  immediately,  “take  that  to  my  lawyer’s.  It  is  my  will, 
Morrel.  When  I am  dead,  you  will  go  and  examine  it.” 

44  What ! ” said  Morrel,  44  you  dead  ? ” 

44  Yes  : must  I not  be  prepared  for  everything,  dear  friend?  * 

44  I hoped  to  get  an  exchange  of  arms,  to  substitute  the  sword 
for  the  pistol,  the  pistol  is  blind.”— — 44  Have  you  succeeded?” 
asked  Monte-Cristo,  quickly,  with  an  imperceptible  gleam  of  hope. 

44  They  postively  refused.” 44  Morrel,”  said  the  count,  44  have 

you  ever  seen  me  fire  a pistol?  ” 44  Never.” 

44  Well,  we  have  time  ; look.”  Monte-Cristo  took  the  pistols  he 
held  in  his  hand  when  Mercedes  entered,  and  fixing  an  aefe  of 
clubs  against  the  iron  plate,  with  four  shots  he  successively  shot 
off  the  four  stems  of  the  club.  At  each  shot  Morrel  turned  pale. 
He  examined  the  balls  with  which  Monte-Cristo  performed  this 
dexterous  feat,  and  saw  that  they  were  no  larger  than  deer-shot. 
44  It  is  astonishing!”  said  he  ; “look,  Emmanuel.”  Then  turn- 
ing towards  Monte-Cristo:  44  Count,”  said  he,  “in  the  name  of 
all  that  is  dear  to  you,  I entreat  you  not  to  kill  Albert!  the  un- 
happy youth  has  a mother,  wound  him— -but  not  kill  him.” 

44  I will  tell  you,  Morrel,”  said  the  count,  44 that  I do  not  need 
entreating  to  spare  the  life  of  M.  de  Morcerf ; he  shall  be  so  well 
spared,  that  he  will  return  quietly  with  his  two  friends,  while  Mor- 
cerf will  kill  me.”  Morrel  looked  at  him  in  Utter  unconscious- 
ness. 44  But  what  has  happened,  then,  since  last  evening, 

count  ?*’ 44  The  same  thing  which  happened  to  Brutus  the 

night  before  the  battle  of  Philippi  ; I have  seen  a phantom.” 

And  that  phantom ” 

44  Told  me,  Morrel,  I had  lived  long  enough.”  Maximilian  and 
Emmanuel  looked  at  each  other.  Monte-Cristo  drew  out  his 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


401 


watch.  “ Let  us  go/’  said  he  ; “it  is  five  minutes  past  seven,  and 
the  appointment  was  for  eight  o’clock.”  A carriage  was  in  readi- 
ness  at  the  door.  Monte-Cristo  stepped  into  it  with  his  two  friends. 
As  the  clock  struck  eight,  they  drove  up  to  the  place  of  meeting. 

Morrel  walked  over  to  Beauchamp  and  Chateau-Renaud,  who 
came  to  meet  them.  They  saluted  affably  or  at  least  courteously. 

Meanwhile  Albert  had  arrived  within  ten  paces  of  the  group 
formed  by  the  five  young  men.  He  jumped  from  his  horse,  threw 
the  bridle  on  his  servant’s  arms,  and  joined  them.  He  was  pale, 
and  his  eyes  were  red  and  swoollen  ; it  was  evident  that  he  had 
not  slept.  A shade  of  melancholy  gravity  overspread  his  count- 
enance, which  was  not  natural  to  him.  “ I thank  you,  gentle- 
men,” said  he,  “ for  having  complied  with  my  request ; I feel  ex- 
tremely grateful  for  this  mark  of  friendship.” 

“ M.  Morrel,”  said  Chateau-Renaud,  “will  you  notify  the 
Count  of  Monte-Cristo  that  M.  de  Morcerf  is  arrived,  and  we  are 
at  his  command  ? ” Morrel  was  preparing  to  fulfil  his  commission. 
Beauchamp  had  meanwhile  drawn  the  pistol-case  from  the  car- 
riage. “ Stop,  gentlemen  ! ” said  Albert  * “ I have  two  words  to 
say  to  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo.” 

“ In  private  ? ” asked  Morrel. 

“ No,  sir  ; before  all  who  are  here.” 

“ What  does  he  want  with  me  ? ” said  Monte-Cristo. 

“ Approach,  gentlemen,”  said  Albert  ; “ I wish  you  not  to  lose 
one  word  of  what  I am  about  to  have  the  honor  of  saying  to  the 
Count  of  Monte-Cristo  ; for  it  must  be  repeated  by  you  to  all  who 
will  listen  to  it,  strange  as  it  may  appear  to  you.” 

“ Proceed,  sir,”  said  the  count. 

* * Sir,”  said  Albert,  at  first  with  a tremulous  voice,  but  which  grad- 
ually became  firmer  ; “ I reproached  you  with  exposing  the  conduct 
of  M.  de  Morcerf  in  Epirus,  for,  guilty  as  I knew  he  was,  I thought 
you  had  no  right  to  punish  him ; but  I have  since  learned  you  have 
that  right.  It  is  not  Fernand  Mondego’s  treachery  towards  Ali 
Pasha  which  induces  me  so  readily  to  excuse  you,  but  the  treach- 
ery of  the  fisherman  Fernand  toward  you,  and  the  almost  un- 
heard-of miseries  which  were  its  consequences;  and  I say,  and 
proclaim  it  publicly,  that  you  were  justified  in  revenging  yourself 
on  my  father  ; and  I,  his  son,  thank  you  for  not  using  greater 
severity.”  Had  a thunderbolt  fallen  in  the  midst  of  the  spectators 
of  this  unexpected  scene,  it  would  not  have  surprised  them  more 
than  did  Albert's  declaration.  As  for  Monte-Cristo,  his  eyes 
slowly  rose  toward  heaven  with  infinite  gratitude.  He  could  not 
understand  how  Albert’s  bravery,  of  which  he  had  seen  so  much 
among  the  Roman  bandits,  had  suddenly  stooped  to  this  humilia- 
tion. He  recognized  the  influence  of  Mercedes,  and  saw  why  her 
noble  heart  had  not  opposed  the  sacrifice  she  knew  beforehand 
would  be  useless.  “Now,  sir,”  said  Albert,  “if  you  think  my 
apology  sufficient,  pray  give  me  your  hand.  Next  to  the  merit  of 
*6 


402 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


infallibility  which  you  appear  to  possess,  I rank  that  of  candidly 
acknowledging  a fault.  But  this  confession  concerns  me  only.  I 
acted  well  as  a man,  but  you  have  acted  better  than  man.  An 
angel  alone  could  have  saved  one  of  us  from  death— that  angel 
came  from  heaven,  if  not  to  make  us  friends  (which,  alas ! fatality 
renders  impossible),  at  least  to  make  us  esteem  each  other.” 
Monte-Cristo,  with  moistened  eye,  heaving  breast,  and  lips  half 
open,  extended  to  Albert  a hand,  which  the  latter  pressed  with  a 
sentiment  resembling  respectful  fear. 

“ Providence  still ! ” murmured  the  departing  count ; “ now  only 
am  I fully  convinced  of  being  the  emissary  of  God ! ’’ 

In  a quarter  of  an  hour  Albert  was  entering  the  mansion.  As 
he  alighted,  he  thought  he  saw  behind  the  curtain  of  the  count’s 
bedroom  his  father’s  pale  face.  Albert  turned  away  his  head  with 
a sigh,  and  went  to  his  own  apartments. 

His  servant,  notwithstanding  his  prohibition,  came  to  his  room. 
•‘What  do  you  want?”  asked  he,  with  a more  sorrowful  than 
angry  tone.  “ Pardon  me,  sir,”  replied  the  valet  ; “ you  had  for- 
bidden me  to  disturb  you,  but  the  Count  of  Morcerf  had  called 
me*  Since  he  has  sent,  it  is  doubtless  to  question  me  on  what 
happened.  What  must  I answer  ? ” 

“ You  will  say  I apologized  to  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo. 
Go.  ” 

The  valet  bowed  and  retired,  and  Albert  returned  to  his  invent- 
ory. As  he  was  finishing  this  work,  the  sound  of  horses  prancing 
in  the  yard,  and  the  wheels  of  a carnage  shaking  his  window,  at- 
tracted his  attention.  He  approached  the  window,  and  saw  his 
father  get  into  it,  and  it  drove  away.  The  door  was  scarcely  closed 
when  Albert  bent  his  steps  to  his  mother’s  room  ; and  no  one  being 
there  to  announce  him,  he  advanced  to  her  bedroom,  and,  dis- 
tressed by  what  he  saw  and  guessed,  stopped  for  one  moment  at  the 
door.  As  if  the  same  soul  had  animated  these  two  beings,  Merce- 
des was  doing  the  same  in  her  apartments  as  he  had  had  just  done. 

“Oh,  my  mother!”  exclaimed  Albert,  so  overcome  he  could 
scarcely  speak,  “ it  is  not  the  same  with  you  and  me — you  cannot 
have  made  the  same  resolution  I have,  for  I am  come  to  warn  you 
that  I bid  adieu  to  your  house,  and — and  to  you  ! ” 

“I  also,”  replied  Mercedes,  “am  going,  and  I acknowledge 
I had  depended  on  your  accompanying  me  ; have  I deceived  my- 
self? ’’ 

“ My  mother,”  said  Albert,  with  firmness,  “I  cannot  make  you 
share  the  fate  I have  planned  for  myself.  I must  live  henceforth 
without  rank  and  fortune,  and  to  begin  this  hard  apprenticeship  I 
must  borrow  from  a friend  the  loaf  I shall  eat  until  I have  earned 
one.  So,  my  dear  mother,  I am  going  at  once  to  ask  Franz  to 
lend  me  the  small  sum  I shall  require  to  supply  my  present 
wants.” 

° Albert,  my  child,”  said  Mercedes,  “ if  I had  a stronger  heart* 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


403 


that  is  the  counsel  I would  have  given  you  ; your  conscience  has 
spoken  when  my  voice  became  too  weak  ; listen  to  its  dictates. 
Do  not  despair  ; you  have  life  before  you,  my  dear  Albert,  for  you 
are  yet  scarcely  twenty-two  years  old  ; and  as  a pure  heart  like 
yours  wants  a spotless  name,  take  my  father’s — it  was  Herrera.  I 
am  sure,  my  Albert,  whatever  may  be  your  career,  you  will  soon 
render  that  name  illustrious.  Then,  my  friend,  return  to  the  world 
still  more  brilliant  from  the  reflection  of  your  former  sorrows  ; and 
if  am  wrong,  still  let  me  cherish  these  hopes,  for  I have  no  future 
to  look  forward  to  : for  me  the  grave  opens  when  I pass  the  thresh- 
old of  this  house.’* 

“ 1 will  fulfil  all  your  wishes,  my  dear  mother,**  said  the  young 
man.  “Yes,  1 share  your  hopes  ; the  anger  of  Heaven  will  not 
pursue  us — you  so  pure,  and  me  so  innocent.  But  since  our  reso- 
lution is  formed,  let  us  act  promptly.  M.  de  Morcerf  went  out 
about  half  an  hour  since  ; the  opportunity  is  favorable  to  avoid  an 
explanation.” 

“ I am  ready,  my  son,**  said  Mercedes.  Albert  ran  to  fetch  a 
hack  ; he  recollected  where  his  mother  would  find  a humble  but 
decent  lodging,  and  thither  he  intended  conducting  her.  As  the 
hackney-coach  stopped  at  the  door,  and  Albert  was  alighting,  a 
man  approached,  and  gave  him  a letter.  Albert  recognized  th* 
bearer.  “ From  the  count,”  said  Bertuccio.  Albert  took  the 
letter,  opened  it,  and  read  it  ; then  looked  round  for  Bertuccio, 
but  he  was  gone.  He  returned  to  Mercedes,  with  tears  in  his  eyes 
and  heaving  breast,  and,  without  uttering  a word,  he  gave  her  the 
letter.  Mercedes  read : 

c 

Albert, — While  showing  you  that  I have  discovered  your 
plans,  I hope  also  to  convince  you  of  my  delicacy.  You  are  free, 
you  leave  the  count’s  hotel,  and  you  take  your  mother  to  your 
home  ; but  reflect.  Albert,  you  owe  her  more  than  your  poor 
noble  heart  can  pay  her.  Keep  the  struggle  for  yourself,  bear  all 
the  suffering,  but  spare  her  the  trial  of  poverty  which  must  accom- 
pany your  first  efforts  ; for  she  deserves  not  even  the  shadow  of 
the  misfortune  which  has  this  day  fallen  on  her,  and  Providence 
wills  not  the  innocent  should  suffer  for  the  guilty.  I know  you 
are  going  to  leave  the  Rue  du  Helder  without  taking  anything 
with  you  ; do  not  seek  to  know  how  I discovered  it  ; I know  it — 
that  is  sufficient.  Now,  listen,  Albert.  Twenty-four  years  ago  I 
returned,  proud  and  joyful,  to  my  country.  I had  a betrothed. 
Albert,  a lovely  girl,  whom  I adored,  and  I was  bringing  to  my 
betrothed  a hundred  and  fifty  louis,  painfully  amassed  by  cease- 
less toil.  This  money  was  for  her  ; and,  knowing  the  treachery  of 
the  sea,  I buried  our  treasure  in  the  little  garden  of  the  house  my 
father  lived  in  at  Marseilles.  Your  mother,  Albert,  knows  that 
poor  house  well.  It  was  under  a beautifiul  fig-tree  my  father  had 
planted  the  day  I was  born*  which  overshadowed  the  spot,  Well, 


404 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


Albert,  this  money,  which  was  formerly  designed  to  promote  the 
comfort  and  tranquillity  of  the  woman  I adored,  may  now,  from  a 
Strange  and  painful  circumstance,  be  devoted  to  the  same  pur- 
pose. Oh,  feel  for  me,  whc  could  offer  millions  to  that  poor 
woman,  but  who  return  her  omy  the  piece  of  bread,  forgotten 
under  my  poor  roof  since  the  day  I was  torn  from  her  I loved. 
You  are  a generous  man,  Albert,  but  perhaps  you  may  be  blinded 
by  pride  or  resentment  ; if  you  refuse  me,  if  you  ask  another  for 
what  I have  a right  to  offer  you,  I will  say  it  is  ungenerous  of  you 
to  refuse  the  life  of  your  mother  at  the  hands  of  a man  whose 
father  was  allowed  to  die  in  all  the  horrors  of  poverty  and  despair 
by  your  father/1 

Albert  stood  pale  and  motionless  to  hear  what  his  mother  would 
decide  after  she  had  finished  reading  this  letter.  Mercedes 
turned  her  eyes  with  an  ineffable  look  toward  heaven.  “ I ac- 
cept it,”  said  she;  “he  has  a right  to  pay  the  dowery,  which  I 
shall  take  with  me  to  some  convent ! ” Putting  the  letter  in  her 
corsage,  she  took  her  son’s  arm,  and,  with  a firmer  step  than  she 
even  herself  expected,  she  went  down-stairs. 


CHAPTER  LVII. 

THE  SUICIDE. 

MEANWHILE  Monte-Cristo  had  also  returned  home.  Every 
transport  of  a daughter  finding  a father,  all  the  delight  of  a mis- 
tress seeing  an  adored  lover,  were  felt  by  Haydee  during  the  first 
moments  of  this  meeting,  which  she  had  so  eagerly  expected.  Doubt- 
less, although  less  evident,  Monte-Cristo’s  joy  was  not  less  intense  ; 
joy  to  hearts  which  have  suffered  long  is  like  the  dew  on  the  ground 
after  a long  drought ; both  the  heart  and  the  ground  absorb  that 
beneficent  moisture  falling  on  them,  and  nothing  is  outwardly  ap- 
parent. 

Monte-Cristo  was  beginning  to  think,  what  he  had  not  for  a long 
time  dared  to  believe,  that  there  were  two  Mercedes  in  the  world, 
and  he  might  yet  be  happy.  His  eye,  elate,  with  happiness,  was 
( reading  eagerly  the  moistened  gaze  of  Haydee,  when  suddenly 
the  door  opened.  The  count  knit  his  brow.  “ M.  de  Morcerf ! ” 
said  Baptistin,  as  if  that  name  sufficed  for  his  excuse.  In  fact,  the 
count’s  face  brightened.  “ Ask  M.  de  Morcerf  into  the  drawing- 
room,” said  he  to  Baptistin,  while  he  led  the  beautiful  Greek  girl 
to  a private  staircase. 

The  general  was  pacing  the  room  the  third  time,  when,  in  turn- 
ing, he  perceived  Monte-Cristo  at  the  door. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  C FIS  TO. 


405 

•‘Why!  it  is  M.  de  Morcerf,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  quietly;  “I 
thought  I had  heard  wrong. 

“ Yes,  it  is  I,”  said  the  count,  whom  a frightful  contraction  of 
the  lips  prevented  from  articulating  freely. 

“ May  I know  the  cause  which  procures  me  the  pleasure  of  see* 
ing  M.  de  Morcerf  so  early?  ” 

“ Had  you  not  a meeting  with  my  son  this  morning  ? ” asked  the 
general. 

“ I had,”  replied  the  count. 

“ And  I know  my  son  had  good  reasons  to  wish  to  fight  with 
you,  and  to  endeavor  to  kill  you.  Doubtless  you  made,  then, 
some  apology  or  explanation  ? ” 

“ I explained  nothing,  and  it  is  he  who  apologized  to  me,  a re- 
sult I expected.” 

“ You  expected  my  son  would  be  a coward ! ” cried  the  count. 

; “ M.  Albert  de  Morcerf  is  no  coward  ! ” said  Monte-Cristo. 

“ A man  who  holds  a sword  in  his  hand,  and  sees  a mortal  en- 
emy within  reach  of  that  sword,  and  does  not  fight,  is  a coward ! 
Why  is  he  not  here,  that  I may  tell  him  so  ? ” 

“ Sir,”  replied  Monte-Cristo,  coldly,  “ I did  not  expect  you  had 
come  here  to  relate  to  me  your  little  family  affairs.  Go  and  tell 
M.  Albert  that,  and  he  may  know  what  to  answer  you.” 

“Oh,  no,  no!”  said  the  general,  smiling  faintly,  “I  did  not 
come  for  that  purpose  ; you  are  right ! I came  to  tell  you  that  I 
also  look  upon  you  as  my  enemy  ! I came  to  tell  you  that  I hate 
you  instinctively  ? That  it  seems  as  if  I had  always  known  you, 
and  always  hated  you  ; and,  in  short,  since  the  young  men  of  the 
present  day  will  not  fight,  it  remains  for  us  to  do  so  till  one  of  us 
is  dead  ! ” said  the  general,  whose  teeth  were  clenched  with  rage. 

•*  Until  one  of  us  dies,”  repeated  Monte-Cristo,  moving  his 
head  slightly  up  and  down. 

“Let  us  start,  then  ; we  need  no  witnesses.” 

“Truly,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  “ it  is  unnecessary,  we  know  each 
other  so  well ! ” 

“ On  the  contrary,”  said  the  count,  “ we  know  so  little  of  each 
other. 

“ Indeed  ! ” said  Monte-Cristo,  with  the  same  indomitable  cool- 
ness ; “let  us  see.  Are  you  not  the  soldier  Fernand  who  deserted  on 
the  eve  of  the  battle  of  Waterloo  ? Are  you  not  the  Lieutenant 
Fernand  who  served  as  guide  and  spy  to  the  French  army  in 
Spain?  Are  you  not  the  Captain  Fernand  who  betrayed,  sold, 
and  murdered  his  benefactor,  Ali  ? And  have  not  all  these  Fer- 
nands, united,  made  the  Lieutenant-General  de  Morcerf,  peer  of 
France  ? ” 

“ Oh  ! ” cried  the  general,  as  if  branded  with  a hot  iron, 
“ wretch ! to  reproach  me  with  my  shame,  when  about,  perhaps, 
to  kill  me.  No,  I did  not  say  I was  a stranger  to  you  ; I know 
well,  demon,  that  you  have  penetrated  into  the  darkness  of  the 


io6 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


past,  and  that  you  hav  e read,  by  the  light  of  what  torch  1 know 
not,  every  page  of  my  life  : but,  perhaps,  I may  be  more  honor- 
able in  my  shame  than  you  under  your  pompous  coverings.  No 
— no,  I am  aware  you  know  me  ; but  I know  you  not,  adventurer, 
sewn  up  in  gold  and  jewelry.  You  have  called  yourself,  in  Paris, 
the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  ; in  Italy,  Sinbad  the  Sailor  ; in  Malta, 
I forget  what.  But  it  is  your  real  name  I want  to  know,  in  the 
midst  of  your  hundred  names,  that  I may  pronounce  it  when  we 
meet  to  fight,  at  the  moment  when  I plunge  my  sword  through 
your  heart.” 

The  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  turned  dreadfully  pale,  his  eye 
seemed  to  burn  with  a devouring  fire  ; he  bounded  toward  a 
dressing-room  near  his  bedroom,  and,  in  less  than  a moment, 
tearing  off  his  cravat,  his  coat  and  waiscoat,  he  put  on  a sailor’s 
jacket  and  hat,  from  beneath  which  rolled  his  long  black  hair. 
He  returned  thus,  formidable  and  implacable,  advancing  with  his 
arms  folded,  toward  the  general,  who  could  not  understand  why 
he  had  disappeared  : but  who  on  seeing  him  again,  and  feeling  his 
teeth  chatter  and  his  legs  sink  under  him,  drew  back,  and  only 
stopped  when  he  found  a table  to  support  his  clenched  hand. 

“ Fernand,”  cried  he,  “ of  my  hundred  names  I need  only  tell 
you  one,  to  overwhelm  you  ! But  you  guess  it  now  ; do  you  not  ? 
— or,  rather,  you  remember  it?  For,  notwithstanding  all  my  sor- 
rows and  my  tortures,  I show  you  to-day  a face  which  the  happiness 
of  revenge  makes  you  again— a face  you  must  often  have  seen  in 
your  dreams  since  your  marriage  with  Mercedes,  my  betrothed  ! ” 

The  general,  with  his  head  thrown  back,  hands  extended,  gaze 
fixed,  looked  silently  at  this  dreadful  apparition  ; then  seeking  the 
wall  to  support  him,  he  glided  along  close  to  it  until  he  reached 
the  door,  through  which  he  went  out  backwards,  uttering  this 
single  mournful,  lamentable,  distressing  cry, — “ Edmond  Dantes  ? ” 

Then,  with  sighs  which  were  unlike  any  human  sound,  he  drag- 
ged himself  to  the  door,  reeled  across  the  courtyard,  and  falling 
into  the  arms  of  his  valet,  he  said,  in  a voice  scarcely  intelligible, 
— 11  Home  ! home  ! ” Two  persons  were  coming  down  the  stairs : 
he  had  only  time  to  creep  into  a cabinet  to  avoid  them.  It  was 
Mercedes  leaning  on  her  son’s  arm  and  leaving  the  hotel.  They 
passed  close  by  the  unhappy  being,  who,  concealed  behind  the 
damask  door,  almost  felt  Mercedes’  dress  brush  past  him,  and 
his  son’s  warm  breath  pronouncing  these  words,— 4 ‘ Courage,  my 
mother  ! Come,  this  is  no  longer  our  home  ! ” 

The  words  died  away,  the  steps  were  lost  in  the  distance.  The 
general  drew  himself  up,  clinging  to  the  door  ; he  uttered  the  most 
dreadful  sob  which  ever  escaped  from  the  bosom  of  a father  aban- 
doned at  the  same  time  by  his  wife  and  son.  He  soon  heard  the 
clatter  of  the  iron  step  of  the  hackney-coach,  then  the  coachman’s 
voice,  and  then  the  rolling  of  the  heavy  vehicle  shook  the  windows. 
He  darted  to  his  bedroom  to  see  once  more  all  he  had  loved  in  the 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


40  7 


world  ; but  the  hackney-coach  drove  on  without  the  head  of 
either  Mercedes  or  her  son  appearing  at  the  window  to  take  a last 
look  at  the  house  or  the  deserted  father  or  husband.  And  at  the 
very  moment  when  the  wheels  of  that  coach  crossed  the  gateway 
a report  was  heard,  and  a thick  smoke  escaped  through  one  of  the 
panes  of  the  window,  which  was  broken  by  the  explosion. 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 

VALENTINE. 

On  leaving  Monte-Cristo,  Morrel  walked  slowly  towards  Ville- 
fort’s.  Noirtier  and  Valentine  had  given  him  leave  to  go  twice  a 
week,  and  he  was  now  availing  himself  of  that  permission.  He 
arrived  ; Valentine  was  expecting  him.  Uneasy  and  almost  wan- 
dering, she  seized  his  hand  and  led  him  to  her  grandfather.  This 
uneasiness,  amounting  almost  to  wildness,  arose  from  the  report 
Morcerf’s  adventure  had  made  in  the  world  ; the  affair  of  the 
opera  was  generally  known.  Morrel  could  read  an  indescribable 
joy  in  the  eyes  of  his  beloved,  when  she  knew  that  the  termina- 
tion of  this  affair  was  as  happy  as  it  was  unexpected. 

“ Now,”  said  Valentine,  motioning  to  Morrel  to  sit  down  near 
her  grandfather,  while  she  took  her  seat  on  his  footstool,  “now 
let  us  talk  about  our  own  affairs.  You  know,  Maximilian,  grand- 
papa once  thought  of  leaving  this  house,  and  taking  an  apartment 
away  from  M.  de  Villefort’s.  He  asserts  the  air  here  is  not  good 
for  me.” 

“ Indeed  ! ” said  Morrel ; “ in  that  M.  Noirtier  may  be  right  ; 

your  health  has  not  appeared  good  the  last  fortnight.” “ Not 

very,”  said  Valentine.  “And  grandpapa  is  become  my  physi- 
cian ; and  I have  the  greatest  confidence  in  him,  because  he 
knows  everything.” 

“ Do  you  then  really  suffer?  ” asked  Morrel,  quickly. 

•*  Oh,  it  must  not  be  called  suffering  ; I feel  a general  depression, 
that  is  all.  I have  lost  my  appetite.”  Noirtier  did  not  lose  a 
word  of  what  Valentine  said.  “ And  what  treatment  do  you  adopt 
for  this  singular  complaint?  ” “ A very  simple  one,”  said  Val- 

entine. “ I swallow  every  morning  a spoonful  of  the  mixture  pre- 
pared for  my  grandfather.  When  I say  one  spoonful,  I began  by 
one — now  I take  four.  Grandpapa  says  it  is  a panacea.”  Valen- 
tine smiled,  but  it  was  evident  she'  suffered. 

Maximilian,  in  his  devotedness,  gazed  silently  at  her.  She  was 
very  beautiful,  but  her  usual  paleness  had  increased  ; her  eyes 
were  more  brilliant  than  ever,  and  her  hands,  which  were  gener- 
ally white  like  mother-of-pearl,  now  more  resembled  wax,  towhid? 
time  was  adding  a yellowish  hue. 


408 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


1 But/*  said  Morrel,  " I thought  this  mixture,  of  which  you  now 
\iake  four  spoonfuls,  was  especially  prepared  for  M.  Noirtier?” 

11 1 know  it  is  very  bitter,”  said  Valentine  ; " so  bitter,  that  all  I 
drink  afterwards  appears  to  have  the  same  taste.”  Noirtier  looked 
inquiringly  at  his  granddaughter.  "Yes;  grandpapa,”  said  Val- 
entine ; “ it  is  so.  Just  now,  before  I came  down  to  you,  I drank 
a glass  of  sugar  and  water  ; I left  half,  because  it  seemed  so  bit- 
ter. Noirtier  turned  pale,  and  made  a sign  that  he  wished  to 
speak.  Valentine  rose  to  fetch  the  dictionary.  Noirtier  watched 
her  with  evident  anguish.  The  blood  was  rushing  to  the  girl’s 
head  : her  cheeks  were  becoming  red.  " Oh  ! ” cried  she,  without 
losing  any  of  her  cheerfulness,  "this  is  singular!  A dimness! 
Did  the  sun  shine  in  my  eyes.”  And  she  leaned  against  the  win- 
dow. 

"The  sun  is  not  shining,”  said  Morrel,  more  alarmed  by  Noir- 
tier’s  expression  than  by  Valentine’s  indisposition.  He  ran  to- 
wards her.  The  girl  smiled.  "Comfort  yourself!”  said  she  to 
Noirtier.  "Do  not  be  alarmed,  Maximilian;  it  is  nothing,  and 
has  already  passed  away.  But  listen  ! Do  I not  hear  a carriage 
in  the  courtyard?”  She  opened  Noirtier’s  door,  ran  to  a window 
in  the  passage,  and  returned  hastily.  "Yes,”  said  she,  "it  is 
Mdme.  Danglars  and  her  daughter,  come  to  call  on  us.  Good- 
bye ! I must  run  away,  for  they  would  send  here  for  me  ; or, 
rather,  farewell  till  I see  you  again.  Stay  with  grandpapa,  Maxi- 
milian ; I promise  you  not  to  persuade  them  to  stay.” 

Morrel  watched  her  as  she  left  the  room  ; he  heard  her  ascend 
the  little  staircase  which  led  both  to  Mdme.  de  Villefort’s  apart- 
ments  and  to  hers.  As  soon  as  she  was  gone,  Noirtier  made  a 
sign  to  Morrel  to  take  the  dictionary.  Morrel  obeyed  ; guided  by 
Valentine,  he  had  learned  how  to  understand  the  old  man  quickly. 
Accustomed,  however,  as  he  was,  and  having  to  repeat  most  of  the 
letters  of  the  alphabet,  and  to  find  every  word  in  the  dictionary, 
it  was  ten  minutes  before  the  thought  of  the  old  man  was  translated 
by  these  words,  " Fetch  the  glass  of  water  and  the  decanter  from 
Valentine’s  room.”  Morrel  rang  immediately  for  the  servant  who 
had  taken  Barrois*  situation,  and  in  Nortier’s  name  gave  that  or« 
der.  The  servant  soon  returned.  The  decanter  and  the  glass 
were  completely  empty.  Noirtier  made  a sign  that  he  wished  to 
speak.  "Why  are  the  glass  and  decanter  empty?”  asked  he  , 
" Valentine  said  she  only  drank  half  the  glassful.’*  The  transla- 
tion of  this  new  question  occupied  another  five  minutes.  " I do 
not  know,”  said  the  servant,  " but  the  housemaid  is  in  Mdlle. 

Valentine’s  room;  perhaps  she  has  emptied  them.” "Ask 

her,”  said  Morrel,  translating  Noirtier’s  thought  this  time  by  his 
look.  The  servant  went  out,  but  returned  almost  immediately. 
" Mdlle.  Valentine  passed  through  the  room  to  go  to  Mdme. 
de  Villefort’s,”  said  he  ; " and  in  passing,  as  she  was  thirsty,  she 
drank  what  remained  in  the  glass ; as  for  the  decanter,  M.  Ed 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


40Q 


wara  uaa  emptied  that  to  make  a pon  for  his  ducks.’  Noirtief 
raised  his  eyes  to  heaven,  as  a gambler  does  who  stakes  his  all  on 
one  stroke.  From  that  moment  the  old  man’s  eyes  were  fixed  on 
the  door,  and  did  not  quit  it. 

It  was  indeed  Mdme.  Danglars  and  her  daughter  whom  Valen- 
tine had  seen  ; they  had  been  ushered  into  Mdme.  de  Villefort’ s 
room.  44  My  dear  friend,”  said  the  baroness,  while  the  two  young 
people  were  shaking  hands,  41  we  come  to  be  the  first  to  announce 
to  you  the  approaching  marriage  of  my  daughter  with  Prince  Cav- 
alcanti.” Danglars  kept  up  the  title  of  Prince.  The  popular 
banker  found  it  answered  better  than  count.  “ Allow  me  to  pre- 
sent you  my  sincere  congratulations,”  replied  Mdme.  de  Villefort. 
44  Prince  Cavalcanti  appears  a young  man  of  rare  qualities.” 

44  And,”  said  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  44 1 need  not  ask  you  if  you 
share  this  liking  ? ” 

44  I ! ” replied  Eugenie,  with  her  usual  candor.  44  Oh,  not  the 
least  in  the  world,  madame  ! But,  since  I am  to  be  married 
whether  I will  or  not,  I ought  to  be  thankful  to  Providence  for 
having  released  me  from  my  engagement  with  M.  Albert  de 
Morcerf,  or  I should  this  day  have  been  the  wife  of  a dishonored 
man.” 44  It  is  true,”  said  the  baroness.  We  have  had  a nar- 

row escape.” 

Deeply  engaged  in  inward  contemplation,  Valentine  had  ceased 
for  a moment  to  join  in  the  conversation.  She  would,  indeed, 
have  found  it  impossible  to  repeat  what  had  been  said  the  last 
few  minutes,  when  suddenly  Mdme.  Danglars’  hand,  pressed  on 
her  arm,  aroused  her  from  her  lethargy. 

44  What  is  it  ? ” said  Eugenie,  44  you  are  very  pale ! ” 

44  Oh,  do  not  be  alarmed  ! I have  been  so  for  some  days.” 

Artless  as  she  was,  the  maiden  knew  this  was  an  opportunity  to 
leave,  besides,  Mdme.  de  Villefort  came  to  her  assistance.  44  Re- 
tire, Valentine,”  said  she  ; “you  are  really  suffering,  and  these 
ladies  will  excuse  you  ; drink  a glass  of  water,  it  will  restore  you.” 
Valentine  kissed  Eugenie,  bowed  to  Mdme.  Danglars,  who  had  al- 
ready risen  to  take  her  leave,  and  went  out.  44  The  poor  child,” 
said  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  when  Valentine  was  gone,  44  she  makes 
me  very  uneasy,  and  I should  nc^  be  astonished  if  she  had  some 
serious  illness.” 

Meanwhile,  Valentine,  in  excitement  which  she  could  not  quite 
understand,  had  crossed  Edward’s  room  without  noticing  some 
trick  of  the  imp,  and  through  her  own  rooms  had  reached  the  lit- 
tle stair-case.  She  was  at  the  bottom  excepting  three  steps  ; she 
already  heard  Morrel’s  voice,  when  suddenly  a cloud  passed  over 
her  eyes,  her  stiffened  foot  missed  the  step,  her  hands  had  no  power 
to  hold  the  baluster,  and,  falling  against  the  wall,  she  rolled  down 
these  three  steps  rather  than  walked.  Morrel  bounded  to  the  door, 
opened  it,  and  found  Valentine  extended  on  the  floor.  Rapid  as 


4io 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


lightning,  he  raised  her  in  his  arms  and  placed  her  in  a chaff. 
Valentine  opened  her  eyes. 

“ Comfort  yourself,  dear  grandpapa,”  said  she,  endeavoring  to 

smile;  “it  is  nothing — I was  giddy,  that  is  all.” “Another 

giddiness  ! ” said  Morrel,  clasping  his  hands.  “Oh,  attend  to  it, 

Valentine,  I entreat  you.” “ But  no,”  said  Valentine, — “no, 

I tell  you  it  is  all  past,  and  it  was  nothing.  “ Oh  ! ” you  are  too 
timid  for  an  officer,  for  a soldier  who,  they  say,  never  knows  fear. 
Ah!”  She  burst  into  a forced  and  melancholy  laugh,  her  arms 
stiffened  and  twisted,  her  head  fell  back  on  her  chair,  and  she 
remained  motionless.  The  cry  of  terror  which  was  stopped  on 
Noirtier’s  lips,  seemed  to  start  from  his  eyes.  Morrel  understood 
it ; he  knew  he  must  call  assistance.  The  young  man  rang  the 
bell  violently  ; the  housemaid,  and  the  servant  who  had  replaced 
Barrois,  ran  in  at  the  same  moment.  Valentine  was  so  pale,  so 
cold,  so  inanimate,  that,  without  listening  to  what  was  said  to 
them,  they  were  seized  with  the  fear  which  pervaded  that  house, 
and  they  flew  into  the  passage  crying  for  help.  Mdme.  Danglars 
and  Eugenie  were  going  out  at  that  moment ; they  heard  the  cause 
of  the  disturbance. 

“ I told  you  so  ! ” cried  Madame  de  Villefort.  “ Poor  child  ! ” 

At  the  same  moment  M.  de  Villefort’ s voice  was  heard  calling 
from  his  cabinet,  “What  is  the  matter?”  Morrel  consulted 
Noirtier’s  look,  who  had  recovered  his  self-command,  and  with  a 
glance  indicated  the  closet  where,  once  before,  under  somewhat 
circumstances,  he  had  taken  refuge.  He  had  only  time  to  get  his 
hat,  and  throw  himself  breathless  into  the  closet ; the  master’s 
footstep  was  heard  in  the  passage.  Villefort  sprang  into  the 
room,  ran  to  Valentine,  and  took  her  in  his  arms.  “ A physician! 
a physician  ! M.  d’Avrigny  ! ” cried  Villefort ; “ or  rather  I will 
go  for  him  myself.”  He  flew  from  the  apartment,  and  Morrel, 
at  the  same  moment,  darted  out  at  the  other  door.  At  the  same 
time  Monte-Cristo’s  voice  seemed  to  resound  in  his  ear,  who  had 
said,  only  two  hours  before,  “ Whatever  you  want,  Morrel,  come 
to  me  ; I have  some  power.” 

Meanwhile  M.  de  Villefort  arrived  in  a hired  cab  at  M. 
d’Avrigny ’s  door.  He  rang  so  violently  that  the  porter  catfie 
alarmed.  Villefort  ran  up-stairs  without  saying  a word.  The 
porter  knew  him,  and  let  him  pass,  only  calling  to  him,  “ In  his 
cabinet.”  Villefort  pushed,  or  rather  forced,  the  door  open. 
“ Ah ! ” said  the  doctor,  “ have  you  another  invalid?  ” 

“ Yes,  doctor,”  cried  Villefort,  seizing,  with  a convulsive  grasp, 
a handful  of  hair,  “ it  is  Valentine’s  turn  ! ” 

“Your  daughter!  ” cried  D’Avrigny,  with  grief  and  surprise. 

“You  see  you  were  deceived,”  murmured  the  magistrate; 
" come  and  see  her,  and  on  her  bed  of  agony  entreat  her  pardon 
for  having  suspected  her.” 

“Each  time  you  have  applied  to  me,”  said  the  doctor,  “i t 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


AH 

fias  been  too  late  : still  I will  go.  But  let  us  make  haste,  sir ; 
with  the  enemies  you  have  to  do  with  there  is  no  time  to  be  lost.” 

“Oh!  this  time,  doctor,  you  shall  not  have  to  reproach  me 
with  weakness.  This  time  I will  know  the  assassin,  and  will 
pursue  him.” 

“ Let  us  try  first  to  save  the  victim  before  we  think  of  reveng- 
ing her,”  said  D’Avrigny.  “ Come.”  The  same  cab  which  had 
brought  Villefort  took  them  back  at  full  speed,  at  the  same  mo- 
ment when  Morrel  rapped  at  Monte-Cristo’s  door.  The  count 
was  reading,  with  an  angry  look,  something  which  Bertuccio 
had  brought  in  haste.  Hearing  Morrel  announced,  the  count 
raised  his  head.  He,  as  well  as  the  count,  had  evidently 
been  much  tried  during  those  two  hours,  for  he  had  left  him 
smiling,  and  returned  with  a disturbed  air.  The  count  rose,  and 
sprang  to  meet  him.  “What  is  the  matter,  Maximilian?”  asked 
he. 

“ I have  just  left  a house  where  death  has  just  entered,  to 

Tun  to  you.” “ From  M.  de  M.  de  Morcerf  s ? ” asked  Monte- 

Cristo. 

“ No,”  said  Morrel ; “is  some  one  dead  in  his  house  ? ” 

“ The  general  has  just  blown  his  brains  out,”  replied  Monte- 
Cristo,  with  great  coolness. 

“ Oil ! what  a dreadful  event ! ” cried  Maximilian. 

“ Not  for  the  countess,  nor  for  Albert,”  said  Monte-Cristo  ; “a 
dead  father  or  husband  is  better  than  a dishonored  one  : blood 
washes  out  shame.” 

“Poor  countess!”  said  Maximilian,  “I  pity  her  very  much  ; 
she  is  so  noble  a woman ! ” 

“Pity  Albert  also,  Maximilian;  for,  believe  me,  he  is  the 
worthy  son  of  the  countess.  But  let  us  return  to  yourself : you 
have  hastened  to  me  ; can  I have  the  happiness  of  being  useful 
to  you  ? ” 

“Yes,  I need  your  help;  that  is,  I thought,  like  a madman, 
you  could  lend  me  your  assistance  in  a case  where  God  alone  can 
succor  me.” 

“ Tell  me  what  it  is,”  replied  Monte-Cristo. 

“ One  evening  I was  in  a garden  ; a clump  of  trees  concealed 
me  ; no  one  suspected  I was  there.  Two  persons  passed  near 
me — allow  me  to  conceal  their  names  for  the  present  ; they  were 
speaking  in  an  under-tone,  and  yet  I was  so  interested  in  what 
they  said,  that  I did  not  lose  a single  word.” 

“This  is  a gloomy  introduction,  if  I may  judge  from  your 
paleness  and  shuddering,  Morrel.” 

“Oh  ! yes,  very  gloomy,  my  friend  ! Some  one  had  just  died 
in  the  house  to  which  that  garden  belonged.  One  of  those  per- 
sons whose  conversation  I overheard  was  the  master  of  the 
house,  the  other,  the  physician.  The  former  was  confiding  to  the 
latter  his  grief  and  fear  ; for  it  was  the  second  time  within  a month 


412 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


that  death  had  entered  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  that  house, 
apparently  destined  to  destruction  by  some  exterminating  angel, 
as  an  object  of  God’s  anger/'  ''And  what  did  the  doctor 
answer?”  asked  Monte-Cristo. 

“ He  replied — he  replied,  that  the  death  was  not  a natural  one, 
and  must  be  attributed  to  poison.” 

“Indeed!”  said  Monte-Cristo,  with  a slight  cough,  which,  in 
moments  of  extreme  emotion,  helped  him  to  disguise  a blush,  or 
his  paleness,  or  the  intense  interest  with  which  he  listened  1 “ in- 
deed, Maximilian,  did  you  hear  that  ? ” “ Yes,  my  dear  count, 

l heard  it  ; and  the  doctor  added,  that  if  another  death  occured 
in  a similar  way,  he  must  appeal  to  justice.”  Monte-Cristo  lis- 
tened, or  appeared  to  do  so,  with  the  greatest  calmness.  “ Well ! ’’ 
said  Maximilian,  “ death  came  a third  time,  and  neither  the  master 
of  the  house  nor  the  doctor  said  a word.  Death  is  now,  perhaps 
striking  a fourth  blow.  Count,  what  am  I bound  to  do,  being  in 
possession  of  this  secret  ? ” 

“ My  dear  friend,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  “ you  appear  to  be  re- 
lating an  adventure  which  we  all  know  by  heart.  I know  the 
house  where  you  heard  it,  or  one  very  similar  to  it.  You  were 
walking  one  eveniug  in  M.  de  Villefort’s  garden  : from  what  you 
relate,  I suppose  it  to  have  been  the  evening  of  Mdme.  de 
Saint-Meran’s  death.  You  heard  M.  de  Villefort  talking  to 
M.  d’Avrigny  about  the  death  of  M.  de  Saint-Meran,  and  that, 
no  less  surprising,  of  the  countess.  M.  d’Avrigny  said  he  be- 
lieved they  both  proceeded  from  poison  ; and  you,  honest  man, 
have  ever  since  been  asking  your  heart,  and  sounding  your  con- 
science, to  know  if  you  ought  to  expose  or  conceal  this  secret. 
It  is  a family  of  Atrides  ; God  has  condemned  them,  and  they 
must  submit  to  their  punishment.  They  will  all  disappear,  like 
the  fabrics  children  build  with  cards,  and  which  fall,  one  by  one, 
under  the  breath  of  their  builder,  even  if  there  are  two  hundred 
of  them.  Three  months  since,  it  was  M.  de  Saint-M6ran  ; Mme. 
de  Saint-Meran  two  months  since  ; the  other  day  it  was  Barrois  : 
to-day,  old  Noirtier,  or  young  Valentine.” 

“You  knew  it?”  cried  Morrel,  in  such  a paroxysm  of  terror 
that  Monte-Cristo  started  ; he  whom  the  falling  heavens  would 
have  found  unmoved  ; “ you  knew  it,  and  said  nothing  ?” 

“And  what  is  it  to  me?”  replied  Monte-Cristo,  shrugging  his 
shoulders  : “ do  I know  those  people  ? and  must  I lose  the  one  to 
save  the  other?  Faith,  no,  for  between  the  culprit  and  the  victim 
I have  no  choice.” 

“ But  I,”  cried  Morrel,  groaning  with  sorrow, — “ I love  her!  ” 

“ You  love  ? — whom  ? ” cried  Monte-Cristo,  starting  on  his  feet, 
and  seizing  the  two  hands  which  Morrel  was  raising  towards 
heaven. 

Valentine  de  Villefort,  who  is  being  murdered  at  this  moment ! 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO.  413 

JDo  you  understand  me  ? I love  her  ; and  I ask  God  and  you  how 
I can  save  her?  ” 

Monte-Cristo  uttered  a cry  which  those  only  can  conceive  who 
have  heard  the  roar  of  a wounded  lion.  “Unhappy  man  ! ” 
cried  he,  wringing  his  hands  in  his  turn  ; “ you  love  Valentine  ! — 
that  daughter  of  an  accursed  race  ! ” Never  had  Morrel  wit- 
nessed such  an  expression — never  had  so  terrible  an  eye  flashed 
before  his  face — never  had  the  genius  of  terror  he  had  so  often 
seen,  either  on  the  battle-field  or  in  the  murderous  nights  of 
Algeria,  shaken  around  him  more  dreadful  fire.  He  drew  back 
terrified. 

As  for  Monte-Cristo,  after  this  ebullition,  he  closed  his  eyes,  as  if 
dazzled  by  internal  light.  In  a moment  he  restrained  himself  so 
powerfully  that  the  tempestuous  heaving  of  his  breast  subsided,  as 
turbulent  and  foaming  waves  yield  to  the  sun’s  genial  influence 
when  the  cloud  has  passed.  This  silence,  self-control,  and  strug- 
gle lasted  about  twenty  seconds,  then  the  count  raised  his  pallid 
face. 

“I  tell  you  to  hope.  Do  you  understand  me  ? ” cried  Monte- 
Cristo.  “ Remember  that  I never  uttered  a falsehood  and  am 
never  deceived.  It  is  twelve  o’clock,  Maximilian  : thank  Heaven 
that  you  came  at  noon  rather  than  in  the  evening,  or  to-morrow 
morning.  Listen,  Morrel ! — it  is  noon  ; if  Valentine  is  not  now 
dead,  she  will  not  die.” 

“Oh!  count,  you  overwhelm  me  with  that  coolness.  Have 
you,  then,  power  against  death? — Are  you  superhuman? — Are 
you  an  angel  ?”  And  the  young  man,  who  had  never  shrunk  from 
danger,  shrank  before  Monte-Cristo  with  indescribable  terror.  But 
Monte-Cristo  looked  at  him  with  so  melancholy  and  sweet  a smile, 
that  Maximilian  felt  the  tears  filling  his  eyes. 

“ I can  do  much  for  you,  my  friend,”  replied  the  count.  “ Go  ; 
I must  be  alone.”  Morrel,  subdued  by  the  extraordinary  ascen- 
dency Monte-Cristo  exercised  over  everything  around  him,  did  not 
endeavor  to  resist  it.  He  pressed  the  count’s  hand,  and  left. 

Meanwhile,  Villefort  and  D’Avrigny  had  made  all  possible 
haste,  Valentine  had  not  revived  from  her  fainting  fit  on  their  ar- 
rival, and  the  doctor  examined  the  invalid  with  all  the  care  the 
circumstances  demanded,  and  with  an  interest  which  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  secret  doubled.  Villefort,  closely  watching  his  coun« 
tenance  and  his  lips,  waited  the  result  of  the  examination.  Noir° 
tier,  paler  than  even  the  girl,  more  eager  than  Villefort  for  the  de- 
cision, was  watching  also  intently  and  affectionately.  At  last 
D’Avrigny  slowly  uttered  these  words  : — “ She  is  still  alive  ! ” 

They  carried  Valentine  away  to  her  own  rooms  ; she  had  re- 
vived, but  could  scarcely  move  or  speak,  so  shaken  was  her  frame 
by  the  attack.  She  had,  however,  just  power  to  give  her  grand- 
father one  parting  look  ; who,  in  losing  her,  seemed  to  be  resign- 
ing his  very  soul,  D’Avrigny  followed  the  invalid,  wrote  a pre* 


4*4 


THE  'CO  UNTO F MONTE  CRISTO. 


scription,  ordered  Villefort  to  take  a cab,  go  in  person  to  a chem* 
ist’s  to  get  the  prescribed  medicine,  bring  it  himself,  and  wait  for 
him  in  his  daughter’s  room.  Then,  having  renewed  his  injunc- 
tion not  to  give  Valentine  anything,  he  went  down  again  to  Noir* 
tier,  shut  the  doors  carefully,  and  after  convincing  himself  no  one 
was  listening,  said,  “ Do  you  know  anything  of  this  young  lady's 
illness  ? ” 

“Yes,”  said  the  old  man. 

“ We  have  no  time  to  lose  ; I will  question,  and  do  you  answer 
me.”  Noirtier  made  a sign  that  he  was  ready  to  answer.  “ Did 
you  see  poor  Barrois  die?”  Noirtier  raised  his  eyes  to  heaven. 
“ Do  you  know  of  what  he  died  ? ” asked  D’Avrigny,  placing  his 

hand  on  Noirtier’ s shoulder. “ Yes,”  replied  the  old  man. 

“ Do  you  think  he  died  a natural  death?  ” A sort  of  smile  was 
discernible  on  the  motionless  lips. 

“ Then  you  have  thought  Barrois  was  poisoned  ? ” “ Yes.” 

“ Do  you  think  the  poison  he  fell  a victim  to  was  intended  for 
him?” 

“ No.” “ Do  you  think  the  same  hand  which  unintentionally 

struck  Barrois  has  now  attacked  Valentine  ? ” “ Yes.” 

“ Then  will  she  die,  too?”  asked  D’Avrigny,  fixing  his  pene- 
trating gaze  on  Noirtier.  He  watched  the  effect  of  this  question 
on  the  old  man.  “No!”  replied  he,  with  an  air  of  triumph 
which  would  have  puzzled  the  most  clever  diviner.  “Then  you 
hope?”  said  D’Avrigny,  with  surprise, “Yes.” 

“What  do  you  hope?  that  the  assassin  will  be  tried  ? ” “ No.* 

“Then  you  hope  the  poison  will  take  no  effect  on  Valentine? ' ' 

“Yes.” 

“It  is  no  news  to  you,”  added  D’Avrigny,  “ to  tell  you  an  at- 
tempt has  been  made  to  poison  her?  ” The  old  man  made  a sign 
that  he  entertained  no  doubt  upon  the  subject.  “ Then  how  do 
you  hope  Valentine  will  escape  ? ” Noirtier  kept  his  eyes  steadily 
fixed  on  the  same  spot.  D’Avrigny  followed  the  direction,  and 
saw  they  were  fixed  on  a bottle  containing  the  mixture  which  he 
took  every  morning.  “ Ah  ! ah  ! ” said  D’Avrigny,  struck  with  a 
sudden  thought,  “ has  it  occurred  to  you  to  prepare  her  system  to 

resist  poison?” “And  you  have  succeeded!”  exclaimed 

D’Avrigny.  “ Without  that  precaution  Valentine  would  have  died 
before  assistance  could  have  been  procured.  The  dose  has  been 
excessive,  but  she  has  only  been  shaken  by  it ; and  this  time,  at 
any  rate,  Valentine  will  not  die.”  A super-human  joy  expanded 
the  old  man’s  eyes,  which  were  raised  toward  heaven  with  an  ex- 
pression of  infinite  gratitude.  At  this  moment  Villefort  returned. 
41  Here,  doctor,”  said  he,  “is  what  you  sent  me  for.” 

“ Was  this  prepared  in  your  presence  ? ” 

“ Yes,”  replied  the  lawyer, 

“Hava  you  not  let  it  go  out  of  your  hands  ? ”~-™“  No.,f 
D’Avrigny  took  the  bottle/poured  some  drops  of  the  mixture  ip 


"HE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


4IS 

contained  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  and  swallowed  them. 
*«  Well,”  said  he,  t%  let  us  go  to  Valentine  ; I will  give  instructions 
to  every  one,  and  you,  M.  de  Villefort,  will  yourself  see  that  no 
one  deviates  from  them.” 

At  the  moment  when  D’Avrigny  was  returning  to  Valentine’s 
room,  accompanied  by  Villefort,  an 'Italian  priest,  of  serious  de- 
meanor and  calm  and  firm  tone,  hired  for  his  use  the  house  ad- 
joining the  hotel  of  M.  de  Villefort.  No  one  knew  why  the  three 
former  tenants  of  that  house  left  it.  About  two  hours  afterwards 
its  foundation  was  reported  to  be  unsafe  ; but  the  report  did  not 
prevent  the  new  occupant  establishing  himself  there  with  his  mod- 
est furniture  the  same  day  at  five  o’clock.  The  lease  was  drawn 
Up  for  three,  six,  or  nine  years  by  the  new  tenant,  who,  according 
to  the  rule  of  the  proprietor,  paid  six  months  in  advance.  This 
new  tenant,,  was  called  Signor  Giacomo  Busoni.  Workmen  were 
immediately  called  in,  and  the  same  night  the  passengers  saw  with 
surprise  carpenters  and  masons  occupied  in  repairing  the  lower 
part  of  the  tottering  house. 


CHAPTER  LIX. 

THE  MARRIAGE  CONTRACT. 

Toward  five  o’clock  in  the  afternoon  of  the  day  fixed  for  tne 
signing  of  the  contract  between  Mdlle.  Danglars  and  Andrea 
Cavalcanti,  as  a fresh  breeze  shook  the  leaves  in  the  little  garden 
situated  in  front  of  the  count  of  Monte-Cristo’s  house,  and  the  lat- 
ter was  preparing  to  go  out  while  his  horses  were  impatiently  paw- 
ing the  ground,  held  in  by  the  coachman,  who  had  been  seated  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  on  his  box,  the  elegant  phaeton  with  which  we 
are  familiar,  rapidly  turned  the  angle  of  the  entrance-gate,  and 
threw,  rather  than  set  down,  on  the  steps  of  the  door,  M.  Andrea 
Cavalcanti,  as  much  decked  and  as  gay  as  if  he,  on  his  side  was 
going  to  marry  a princess.  He  inquired  after  the  count  with  his 
usual  familiarity,  and,  bounding  lightly  to  the  first  story,  met  him 
on  the  top  of  the  stairs.  The  count  stopped  on  seeing  the  young 
man.  As  for  Andrea,  he  was  launched,  and  when  once  launched 
nothing  stopped  him.  “Ah!  good  morning,  my  dear  count,” 
said  he.  il  Ah,  M.  Andrea  ! ” said  the  latter,  with  his  half-jesting 
tone  ; “ how  do  you  do.” 

“ Charmingly,  as  you  see.  I am  come  to  talk  to  you  about  a 
thousand  things.” 

The  count  returned  to  a small  drawing-room  on  the  first 
floor,  sat  down,  and,  crossing  his  legs,  motioned  to  the  young 
man  to  take  a seat  also.  Andrea  assumed  his  gayest  man- 
ner- “ You  know,  my  dear  count,”  said  he,  “the  ceremony  is 


4.1 6 THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


to  take  place  this  evening.  At  nine  o’clock  the  contract  is  to  be 

signed  at  my  father-in-law’s.” “Ah!  indeed?”  said  Monte- 

Cristo,  “you  are  fortunate,  M.  Cavalcanti!  it  is  a most  suitable 
alliance  you  are  contracting,  and  Mdlle.  Danglars  is  a pretty 
girl.” 

“Yes,  indeed  she  is,”  replied  Cavalcanti,  with  a very  modest 

tone. 

“Above  all,  she  is  very  rich,— at  least,  I believe  so,”  said 
Monte-Cristo : “it  is  said  M.  Danglars  conceals  at  least  half  of 
his  fortune.” 

“ And  he  acknowledges  fifteen  or  twenty  millions,”  said  Andrea, 
with  a look  sparkling  with  joy. 

“ Without  reckoning,”  added  Monte-Cristo,  “ that  he  is  on  the 
eve  of  entering  into  a railroad  speculation  by  which  it  is  gener. 
ally  believed  he  will  gain  ten  millions.” 

“Ten  millions!  Do  you  think  so?  It  is  magnificent  ! ” said 
Cavalcanti,  quite  confounded  at  the  metallic  sound. 

“Without  reckoning,”  replied  Monte-Cristo,  “that  all  his  for- 
tune will  come  to  you,  and  justly  too,  since  Mdlle.  Danglars  is  an 
only  daughter.  Besides*  your  own  fortune,  as  your  father  assured 
me,  is  almost  equal  to  that  of  your  betrothed.  But,  enough  of 
money  matters.  Do  you  know,  M.  Andrea,  I think  you  have 
managed  this  affair  rather  skilfully  ? ” 

“ Not  badly,  by  any  means,”  said  the  young  man  ; “ I was  born 

for  a diplomatist.  But  I must  not  forget  one  grand  point.” 

“Which?  ” 

“ That  I have  been  singularly  assisted  by  your  lordship.” 

“ By  me?  Not  at  all,  prince,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  laying  a 
marked  stress  on  the  title  ; “ what  have  I done  for  you?  Are  not 
your  name,  social  position,  and  merit  sufficient?” 

“No,”  said  Andrea, — “no;  it  is  useless  for  you  to  say  so, 
count.  I maintain  that  the  position  of  a man  like  you  has  done 
more  than  my  name,  my  social  position,  and  my  merit.” 

“You  are  completely  mistaken,  sir,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  coldly, 
who  felt  the  perfidious  manoeuvre  of  the  young  man,  and  under- 
stood the  bearing  of  his  words;  “you  only  acquired  my  protec- 
tion after  the  influence  and  fortune  of  your  father  had  been  ascer* 
tained  ; “ for,  after  all,  who  procured  for  me,  who  had  never  seen 
either  you  or  your  illustrious  father,  the  pleasure  of  your  acquaint- 
ance?— Two  of  my  good  friends,  Lord  Wilmore  and  Abbe  Busoni. 
What  encouraged  me  not  to  become  your  surety,  but  to  patronize 
you? — It  was  your  father’s  name  so  well  known  in  Italy  and  so 
highly  honored.  Personally,  I do  not  know  you.”  This  calm  one 
and  perfect  ease  made  Andrea  feel  he  was,  for  the  moment,  re- 
strained by  a stronger  hand  than  his  own,  and  that  the  restraint 
csmld  not  be  easily  broken  through. 

“ Oh  ! then  my  father  has  really  a very  large  fortune,  count?  ** 
appears  so,  sir,”  replied  Monte-Cristo. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


417 


••Then,  I am  come  to  ask  a favor  of  you.” “ Of  me  \ ” 

44  To  take  my  father’s  part.” 

44 Ah!  my  dear  sir!  What!  after  the  numerous  relations  I 
have  had  the  happiness  to  sustain  toward  you,  you  know  me  so 
little  as  to  ask  such  a thing  ! Ask  me  to  lend  you  half  a million, 
and,  although  such  a loan  is  somewhat  rare,  on  my  honor  you 
would  annoy  me  less  ! Know,  then,  what  I thought  I had  already 
told  you,  that,  in  the  moral  participation  particularly  with  this 
world’s  affairs,  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  has  never  ceased  to  en- 
tertain  the  scruples  and  even  the  superstitions  of  the  East.  I, 
who  keep  a seraglio  at  Cairo,  at  Smyrna,  and  at  Constantinople, 

preside  at  a wedding? — never!  ” 

“ But  what  must  be  done  ? ” said  Andrea,  disappointed 
44  You  said  just  now,  you  had  a hundered  friends.” 

“Agreed  ; but  you  introduced  me  at  M.  Danglars’.” 

4‘  Not  at  all ! let  us  recall  the  exact  facts.  You  met  him  at  % 
dinner  party  at  my  house,  and  you  introduced  yourself  at  hi» 
house  ; that  is  a totally  different  affair.” 

44  But,  at  least  you  will  be  there?  ” 

44  Will  all  Paris  be  there  ? ” 

44  Oh,  certainly.' * ’ 

44  Well,  like  all  Paris,  I shall  be  there  too,”  said  the  count. 

44  And  will  you  sign  the  contract?” 

44 1 see  no  objection  to  that ; my  scruples  do  not  go  thus  far.” 

44  Well,  since  you  will  grant  me  no  more,  I must  be  contentwith 
what  you  give  me.” 

44  All  is  well,  excepting  your  refusal,  which  quite  grieves  me.” 
44Ycu  must  attribute  it  only  to  natural  scruples  under  similar 
circumstances.” 

44  Well,”  said  Andrea,  “let  it  be  as  you  wish  : this  evening, 

then,  at  nine  o’clock.” 44  Adieu  till  then.”  Notwithstanding  a 

slight  resistance  on  the  part  of  Monte-Cristo,  whose  lips  turned 
pale,  but  who  preserved  his  ceremonious  smile,  Andrea  seized  the 
count’s  hand,  pressed  it,  and  disappeared. 

At  half-past  eight  in  the  evening,  Danglars*  rooms  were  filled 
with  a perfumed  crowd,  who  sympathized  but  little,  but  partici- 
pated in  that  love  of  being  present  wherever  there  is  anything  fresh 
to  be  seen,  which  attracts  inconstant  butterflies,  famished  bees,  and 
buzzing  drones. 

Mdlle.  Eugenie  was  dressed  with  elegant  simplicity.  Her  eyes, 
however,  betrayed  that  perfect  confidence  which  contradicted  the 
girlish  simplicity  of  attire.  The  crowd  moved  to  and  fro  in  those 
rooms  like  an  ebb  and  flow  of  turquoises,  rubies,  emeralds,  opals, 
and  diamonds.  As  usual,  the  oldest  women  were  the  most  decor- 
ated, and  the  ugliest  the  most  conspicuous. 

At  the  moment  when  the  hand  of  the  massive  time-piece  pointed 
to  nine  on  its  golden  face,  and  the  hammer  struck  nine  times,  the 
aame  of  Monte-Cristo  resounded  in  its  turn,  and,  as  if  by  an  eleo» 

27  / 


j 


418  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

trie  shock,  all  the  assembly  turned  toward  the  door.  The  court* 
was  dressed  in  black,  and  with  his  habitual  simplicity.  His  onl) 
jewel  was  a chain,  so  fine  that  the  slender  gold  thread  wai 
scarcely  perceptible  on  his  white  waistcoat.  A circle  was  formed 
immediately  round  the  door.  The  count  perceived  at  one  glance 
Mdme.  Danglars  at  one  end  of  the  drawing-room,  M.  Danglars  at 
the  other,  and  Eugenie  in  front  of  him.  He  first  advanced  toward 
the  baroness,  who  was  chatting  with  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  who  had 
come  alone,  Valentine  being  still  an  invalid  ; and  without  turning 
aside,  so  clear  was  the  road  left  for  him,  he  passed  from  the 
baroness  to  Eugenie,  whom  he  complimented  in  such  rapid  and 
measured  terms,  that  the  proud  artist  was  quite  struck.  Near  her 
was  Louise  d’Armilly,  who  thanked  the  count  for  the  letters  he 
had  so  kindly  given  her  for  Italy,  which  she  intended  immediately 
to  make  use  of.  On  leaving  these  ladies  he  found  himself  with 
Danglars,  who  had  advanced  to  meet  him. 

Having  accomplished  these  three  social  duties,  Monte-Cristo 
stopped,  looking  around  him  with  that  expression  peculiar  to  a 
certain  class,  which  seems  to  say,  “ I have  done  my  duty,  now  let 
others  do  theirs.* ’ The  lawyers  arrived  at  this  moment,  and  ar- 
ranged their  papers  on  the  velvet  cloth  embroidered  with  gold 
which  covered  the  table  prepared  for  the  signature.  One  of  the 
notaries  sat  down,  the  other  remained  standing.  They  were  about 
to  proceed  to  the  reading  of  the  contract,  which  half  Paris  assem- 
bled was  to  sign. 

The  contract  was  read  during  a profund  silence.  But  as  soon  as 
it  was  finished,  the  buzz  was  redoubled  through  all  the  drawing- 
rooms ; the  brilliant  sums,  the  rolling  millions  which  were  to  be  at 
the  command  of  the  affianced,  and  which  crowned  the  display 
which  had  been  made  in  a room  entirely  appropriated  for  that  pur- 
pose of  the  wedding  presents,  and  the  young  lady’s  diamonds,  had 
resounded  with  all  their  delusion  on  the  jealous  assembly. 

The  baron  was  to  sign  first  ; then  the  representative  of  M. 
Cavalcanti,  senior ; then  the  baroness  ; afterwards  the  future 
couple,  as  they  are  styled  on  the  ceremonious  stamped  papers. 
The  baron  took  the  pen  and  signed,  then  the  representative.  The 
baroness  approached,  leaning  on  Mdme.  de  Villefort’s  arm.  44  My 
dear,**  said  she,  as  she  took  the  pen,  44  is  it  not  vexatious  ? An  un- 
expected incident,  in  the  affair  of  murder  and  theft  at  the  count  of 
Monte-Cristo*s,  in  which  he  nearly  fell  a victim,  deprives  us  of  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  M.  de  Villefort.” 

44  Indeed,’*  said  M.  Danglars,  in  the  same  tone  in  which  he 
would  have  said,  44  Faith,  I care  very  little  about  it ! ” 

4 4 Indeed,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  approaching,  44  I am  much  afraid 
I am  the  involuntary  cause  of  that  absence.  You  remember/'  con- 
tinued the  count,  during  the  most  profound  silence,  44  that  the  un- 
happy wretch  who  came  to  rob  me,  died  at  my  house ; it  was  sup- 
posed he  was  stabbed  by  his  accomplice,  on  attempting  to  leave  it." 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


419 


“ Yes,"  said  Danglars. 

“ In  order  to  examine  his  wounds,  he  was  undressed,  and  his 
clothes  were  thrown  into  a corner,  where  officers  of  justice  picked 
them  up,  with  the  exception  of  the  waist-coat,  which  they  over- 
looked." Andrea  turned  pale,  and  drew  towards  the  door,  he  saw 
a cloud  rising  in  the  horizon,  which  appeared  to  forebode  a coming 
storm. 

“ Well ! this  waistcoat  was  discovered  to-day,  covered  with 
blood,  and  with  a hole  over  the  heart."  The  ladies  screamed,  and 
two  or  three  prepared  to  faint.  “ It  was  brought  to  me.  No  one 
could  guess  what  the  dirty  rag  could  be  ; I alone  supposed  it  was 
the  waistcoat  of  the  victim.  My  valet,  in  examining  this  mourn- 
ful relic,  felt  a paper  in  the  pocket  and  drew  it  out ; it  was  a letter 
addressed  to  you,  baron." 

“To  me  ! " cried  Danglars. 

“But,"  asked  Mdme.  Danglars,  looking  at  her  husband  with 
uneasiness,  “ how  could  that  prevent  M.  de  Villefort " 

“In  this  simple  way,  madame,"  replied  Monte-Cristo  ; “the 
waistcoat  and  the  letter  were  both,  what  is  termed,  convictive 
evidence  : I therefore  sent  it  all  to  the  Royal  Prosecutor.  You  un- 
derstand, my  dear  baron,  legal  proceedings  are  the  safest  in 
criminal  cases  ; it  was,  perhaps,  some  plot  against  you."  Andrea 
looked  steadily  at  Monte-Cristo,  and  disappeared  in  the  second 
drawing-room. 

“ Possibly."  said  Danglars  ; “ this  murdered  man  was  an  old 
galley-slave  ? " 

“Yes,"  replied  the  count;  “a  felon  named  Caderousse." 
Danglars  turned  slightly  pale,  Andrea  reached  the  anteroom  be- 
yond the  little  drawing-room. 

“ But  go  on  signing,"  said  Monte-Cristo  ; “ I perceive  my  story 
las  caused  a general  emotion,  and  I beg  to  apologize  to  you, 
baroness,  and  to  Mdlle.  Danglars." 

The  baroness,  who  had  signed,  returned  the  pen  to  the  notary. 
“ Prince  Cavalcanti ! " said  the  letter  ; “ Prince  Cavalcanti,  where 
are  you  ? " “ Andrea  ! Andrea  ! " repeated  several  young  peo- 

ple, who  were  already  on  sufficiently  intimate  terms  with  him  to 

call  him  by  his  Christian  name. “ Call  the  prince  ! inform  him 

it  is  his  turn  to  sign  ! " cried  Danglars  to  one  of  the  door-keepers. 

But  at  the  same  instant  the  crowd  of  guests  rushed,  terrified,  in- 
to the  principal  saloon,  as  if  some  frightful  monster  had  entered 
the  apartments.  There  was,  indeed,  reason  to  retreat,  for  alarm, 
and  to  scream.  An  officer  was  placing  two  soldiers  at  the  door  of 
each  drawing-room,  and  was  advancing  toward  Danglars,  pre- 
ceeded  by  a police  justice  girded  with  his  scarf.  Mdme.  Danglars 
uttered  a scream  and  fainted.  Danglars,  who  thought  himself 
threatened  (certain  consciences  are  never  calm), — Danglars  ap- 
peared before  his  guests  with  a terrified  countenance. 

“ Which  of  you  gentlemen,"  asked  the  magistrate,  “answers  to 


420 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


the  name  of  Andrea  Cavalcanti?  ” A cry  of  stupor  was  heard 
from  all  parts  of  the  room.  They  searched  ; they  questioned.  44  But 
who  then  is  Andrea  Cavalcanti?”  asked  Danglars,  in  amaze- 
ment. 

44  A galley-slave,  escaped  from  confinement  at  Toulon.’* 

“And  what  crime  has  he  committed  ? ” 

14  He  is  accused,”  said  the  commissary,  with  his  inflexible  voice, 
44  of  having  assassinated  a man  named  Caderousse,  his  former 
companion  in  prison,  at  the  moment  he  was  making  his  escape 
from  the  house  of  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo.”  Monte-Cristo  casj 
a rapid  glance  around  him.  Andrea  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  LX. 

JUDICIAL  STERNNESS. 

We  will  leave  the  banker  contemplating  the  enormous  columns 
of  his  debt  before  the  phantom  of  bankruptcy,  and  follow  the 
baroness,  who,  after  remaining  for  a moment  as  if  crushed  under 
the  weight  of  the  blow  which  had  struck  her,  had  gone  to  seek  her 
usual  adviser,  Lucien  Debray.  The  baroness  had  looked  forward 
to  this  marriage  as  a means  of  ridding  her  of  a guardianship 
which,  over  a girl  of  Eugenie’s  character,  could  not  fail  to  be 
rather  a troublesome  undertaking.  She  very  much  regretted  that 
the  marriage  of  Eugenie  had  not  taken  place,  not  only  because  the 
match  was  good,  and  likely  to  ensure  the  happiness  of  her  child, 
but  because  it  would  also  set  her  at  liberty.  She  ran  therefore  to 
Debray’s,  but  he  was  absent  and  tired  of  waiting  she  returned 
home.  The  baroness  ran  lightly  up-stairs,  and  with  an  aching 
heart  entered  her  apartment,  contiguous  to  Eugenie’s.  She  was 
fearful  of  exciting  any  remark,  and  listened  at  Eugenie’s  door, 
then,  hearing  no  sound,  she  tried  to  enter,  but  the  bolts  were 
drawn.  Mdme.  Danglars  fancied  that,  fatigued  with  the  terrible 
excitement  of  the  evening,  she  had  retired  to  her  bed  and  slept. 
She  called  her  lady’s  maid  and  questioned  her. 

“Mdlle.  Eugenie,”  she  said,  M retired  to  her  apartment  with 
Mdlle.  d’ Armilly  ; they  took  tea  together,  after  which  they  desired 
me  to  leave,  saying  they  required  me  no  longer.**  Since  then  the 
lady’s  maid  had  been  below,  and,  like  every  one  else,  she  thought 
the  young  ladies  were  in  their  own  room;  Mdme.  Danglars,  there-* 
fore,  went  to  bed,  and  began  to  muse  over  the  past  events.  In 
proportion  as  her  ideas  became  clearer,  so  did  occurrences  at  the 
scene  of  the  contract  increase  in  magnitude  ; it  no  longer  appeared 
mere  confusion  ; it  was  a tumult ; it  was  no  longer  something  dis* 
pressing,  but  disgraceful. 


I'HE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


421 


How  could  she  extricate  herself  from  this  labyrinth  ? To  whom 
would  she  apply  to  help  her  out  of  this  painful  situation  • Debray, 
to  whom  she  had  run,  with  the  first  instinct  of  a woman  toward 
the  man  she  loves,  and  who  yet  betrays  her, — Debray  could  but 
give  her  advice  ; she  must  apply  to  some  one  more  powerful  than 
he.  The  baroness  then  thought  of  M.  de  Villefort.  It  was  M.  de 
Villefort  who  had  caused  Cavalcanti  to  be  arrested  ; it  was  M.  de 
Villefort  who  had  remorselessly  brought  misfortune  into  her 
family,  as  though  they  had  been  strangers.  The  inflexibility  of 
the  prosecutor  should  stop  there  ; she  would  see  him  the  next  day, 
and  if  she  could  not  make  him  fail  in  his  duties  as  a magistrate, 
she  would,  at  least,  obtain  all  the  indulgence  he  could  allow. 

At  nine  o’clock  next  morning  she  rose,  and  without  ringing  for  her 
maid,  or  giving  the  least  sign  of  her  existence,  she  dressed  herself 
in  the  same  simple  style  as  on  the  previous  night ; then  running 
down-stairs,  she  called  a hack  and  drove  to  Villefort’s  House.  For 
the  last  month  this  wretched  house  had  presented  the  gloomy  ap- 
pearance of  a lazaretto  infected  with  the  plague.  Mdme.  Dang- 
lars  involuntarily  shuddered  at  the  aspect  ; she  approached  the 
door  with  trembling  knees,  and  rang  the  bell.  Three  times  did 
the  bell  ring  with  a dull,  heavy  sound,  seeming  to  participate  in 
general  sadness,  before  the  janitor  appeared  and  peeped  through 
the  door,  which  he  opened  just  wide  enough  to  allow  his  words  to 
be  heard.  He  saw  a lady,  a fashionable,  elegantly -dressed  lady, 
and  yet  the  door  remained  on  the  chain. 

“ Do  you  intend  opening  the  door?  ” said  the  baroness. 

“ First,  madam,  who  are  you  ? ” 

“The  Baroness  Danglars  : you  have  seen  me  twenty  times.” 

“ Possibly,  madam.  And  now,  what  do  you  want!  ” 

“ Oh,  how  extraordinary  ! I shall  complain  to  M.  de  Villefort  of 
the  impertinence  of  his  servants.” 

“ Madam,  this  is  precaution,  not  impertinence  ; no  one  enters 
here  without  an  order  from  Dr.  Avrigny,  or  without  speaking  to 
my  master.” 

“ Well ! my  business  is  with  him.” 

“ Is  it  pressing  business  ? ” 

“ You  can  imagine  so,  since  I have  not  even  used  my  carriage. 
But  enough  of  this  ; here  is  my  card  ; take  it  to  your  master.” 

The  concierge  closed  the  door,  leaving  Mdme.  Danglars  on  the 
street.  She  had  not  long  to  wait ; directly  afterward  the  door 
was  opened  wide  enough  to  admit  her,  and  when  she  had  passed 
through,  it  was  again  shut.  Without  losing  sight  of  her  for  an 
instant,  the  man  took  a whistle  from  his  pocket  as  soon  as  they 
entered  the  court,  and  sounded  it.  The  footman  appeared  on  the 
door-steps.  “You  will  excuse  this  poor  fellow,  madam,”  he  said, 
as  he  preceded  the  baroness  ; “ but  his  orders  are  precise,  and  M. 
de  Villefort  begged  me  to  tell  you  he  could  not  act  otherwise  than 
tie  had  done.” 


422 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1ST0. 


The  baroness  began  by  complaining.  But  Villefort,  raising  hit 
fiead,  bowed  down  by  grief,  looked  up  at  her  with  so  sad  a smile 
that  her  complaints  died  upon  her  lips.  “ Forgive  my  servants/* 
he  said,  “ for  a terror  I cannot  blame  them  for  ; from  being  sus- 
pected they  have  become  suspicious.” 

Mdme.  Danglars  had  often  heard  of  the  terror  to  which  the 
magistrate  alluded,  but  without  the  evidence  of  her  own  eyesight 
she  could  never  have  believed  the  sentiment  had  been  carried  so 
far.  “ You  too,  then,  are  unhappy  ? ” she  said.  “ Yes,  madam,” 
replied  the  magistrate. 

‘‘Then  you  pity  me  ! ” “ Sincerely,  madam.” “ And  you 

understand  what  brings  me  here  ? ” “ You  wish  to  speak  to  me 

about  the  circumstance  which  has  just  happened?” “Yes, 

sir,  a fearful  misfortune.” “ When  I hear  misfortunes  named, 

madam,”  he  said,  “ I have  within  the  last  few  months  contracted 
the  bad  habit  of  thinking  of  my  own,  and  then  I cannot  help 
drawing  up  an  egotistical  parallel  in  my  mind.  This  is  the  reason 
that  by  the  side  of  my  misfortunes  yours  appear  to  me  mere  mis- 
chances ; this  is  why  my  dreadful  position  makes  yours  appear 
enviable.  But  this  annoys  you  ; let  us  change  the  subject.  You 
were  saying,  madam- ” 

“I  came  to  ask  you,  my  friend,”  said  the  baroness,  “ what  will 
be  done  with  his  impostor?” 

“ Impostor!  ” repeated  Villefort ; certainly,  madam,  you  appear 
to  extenuate  some  cases,  and  exaggerate  others.  Impostor,  indeed  ! 
M.  Andrea  Cavalcanti,  or  rather  M.  Benedetto,  is  nothing  more 
nor  less  than  an  assassin  ! ” 

“ Sir,  I do  not  deny  the  justice  of  your  correction  ; but  the  more 
severely  you  arm  yourself  against  that  unfortunate,  the  more 
deeply  will  you  strike  our  family.  Come,  forget  him  for  a 
moment,  and,  instead  of  pursuing  him,  let  him  fly.” 

“You  are  too  late,  madam  ; the  warrant  is  out.” 

“Well,  should  he  be  arrested— do  you  think  they  will  arrest 
him?” 

“ I hope  so.” 

“ If  they  should  arrest  him  (I  know  that  sometimes  prisons 

afford  means  of  escape),  will  you  leave  him  in  prison  ?” The 

other  shook  his  head.  “ At  least  keep  him  there  till  my  daughter 
be  married.” 

“ Impossible,  madam  ; justice  has  its  formalities.” 

“ What  ! even  for  me  ? ” said  the  baroness,  half  jesting,  half  in 
earnest.  “For  all,  even  for  myself  among  the  rest,”  replied 
Villefort. 

“Ah!”  exclaimed  the  baroness,  without  expressing  the  ideas 
which  the  exclamation  betrayed.  Villefort  looked  at  her  with  that 
piercing  glance  which  read  the  secrets  of  the  heart.  “Yes,  I 
know  what  you  mean,”  he  said  ; “ I will  answer  you.”  Villefort 
drew  his  arm-chair  nearer  to  Mdme.  Danglars  ; then,  resting  both 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO 


423 


hanas  upon  his  desk,  he  said,  in  a voice  more  hollow  than  usual  ; 

, There  are  crimes  which  remain  unpunished  because  the  criminals 
are  unknown,  and  we  might  strike  the  innocent  instead  of  the 
guilty  ; but  when  the  culprits  are  discovered* * (Villefort  here  ex- 
tended his  hand  toward  a large  crucifix  placed  opposite  to  his 
desk)— I swear  to  you,  by  all  I hold  most  sacred,  that,  whoever  they 
may  be,  they  shall  die  ! Now,  after  the  oath  I have  just  taken,  and 
which  I will  keep,  madam,  dare  you  ask  for  mercy  for  that  wretch, 
escaped  convict,  then  an  assassin.” 

“ And  who  is  this  wretch  ? ” 44  His  parents  are  unknown.’* 

41  But  who  was  the  man  who  brought  him  from  Lucca  ? ” 
“Another  rascal  like  himself,  perhaps  his  accomplice.” 

The  baroness  clasped  her  hands.  44  Villefort ! ” she  exclaimed, 
in  her  softest  and  most  captivating  manner,  41  this  young  man, 
though  a murderer,  is  an  orphan,  abandoned  by  everybody.” 

44  So  much  the  worse,  or  rather,  so  much  the  better  ; it  has  been 
so  ordained  that  he  may  have  none  to  weep  his  fate.” 

44  His  dishonor  reflects  upon  us.” 

44  Is  not  death  in  my  house  ? ” 

44  Oh,  sir,”  exclaimed  the  baroness,  “ you  are  without  pity  for 
others  ! Well,  then,  I tell  you  they  will  have  no  mercy  on  you ! ” 
44  Be  it  so  ! ” said  Villefort,  raising  his  arms  to  heaven. 

44  But,  sir,  he  has  fled  ; let  him  escape — inaction  is  a pardon- 
able offence.” 

44 1 tell  you  it  is  too  late  ; early  this  morning  the  telegraph  was 

employed,  and  at  this  very  minute ” 

44  Sir,”  said  the  valet-de-chambre,  entering  the  room, 44  a dragoon 
has  brought  this  despatch  from  the  Interior.”  Villefort  seized 
the  letter,  and  hastily  unsealed  it.  Madame  Danglars  trembled 
with  fear  ; Villefort  started  with  joy.  44  Arrested  ! ” he  exclaimed  ; 
44  he  was  taken  at  Compiegne,  and  all  is  over.”  Mdme.  Danglars 
rose  from  her  seat,  pale  and  cold.  44  Adieu,  sir ! ” she  said. 

44  Adieu,  madam!  ” replied  the  lawyer,  as  in  an  almost  joyful 
manner  he  conducted  her  to  the  door.  Then,  turning  to  his  desk, 
he  said,  striking  the  letter  with  his  right  hand,  44  Come,  I had  a 
forgery,  three  robberies,  and  two  incendiaries  ; I only  wanted  a 
murder,  and  here  it  is.  It  will  be  a splendid  session  ! ” 

In  receiving  the  news  of  Andrea’s  capture,  the  whole  was  notin 
Villefort’ s hands. 

The  Italian  adventurer  had  succeeded  in  reaching  Compiegne, 
but  he  was  badly  hampered  for  lack  of  a passport,  indispensable  in 
those  times.  He  stayed  at  the  first  hotel,  pretending  that  he  had 
' put  up  there  before.  He  had  refreshed  his  toilet,  and  moderated 
its  festal  appearance  and  seemed  a gentleman  on  his  excursions 
after  a pretty  girl  outside  of  the  capital. 

He  purposed  disguising  himself  meanly  on  the  morrow  and 
traveling  by  night  by  side-paths  to  the  frontier. 

The  sun  awoke  him  at  seven.  He  went  to  the  window  and  was 


424 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


horrified  to  see  that  the  hotel  was  surrounded  by  the  rural  con* 
stabullary.  He  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  they  were  after  him 
The  worlar-arm  telegraph  had  indeed  been  employed  to  notify 
the  authorities  in  all  directions  of  the  flight  of  the  murderer  of 
Caderousse. 

Benedetto  was  a lad  jof  resources  and  he  did  not  delay  in  fast- 
ening his  door  and  climbing  up  the  chimney.  But  tne  roof, 
he  feared,  would  soon  be  searched,  and  he  considered  it  wise  to 
slip  down  another  flue  and  reached  thereby  some  room  where  he 
might  exit  unnoticed. 

Two  thirds  down,  however,  his  foot  slipped  and  down  he  slid 
upon  a hearth.  This  fall  was  almost  noiseless,  and  would  not  have 
mattered  perhaps  if  the  room  had  been  unoccupied. 

As  bad  luck  would  happen,  the  bed  was  tenanted  by  two  young 
women,  who  sprang  up  in  bed  as  the  soot-befouled  young  mai* 
rolled  into  the  apartment. 

Mutual  recognition  was  in  the  glances  exchanged  between  the 
three  equally  surprised  persons. 

The  women  had  recognized  Andrea  the  murderer  and  the  Mdlle. 
Armilly  and  Mdlle.  Danglars,  in  spite  of  the  latter  having  cut  off 
her  tresses. 

Eugenie  had  fled  in  masculine  attire  with  her  inseparable  friend. 
With  a large  sum  in  cash  and  jewels,  they  were  making  their  way 
to  the  frontier,  for  refuge  in  some  land  where  they  could  go  upon 
the  musical  stage. 

The  first  emotion  overt  they  begged  the  assassin  to  return  as  he 
had  come  ; but  already  the  excitement  had  spread  through  the 
house  and  a maid,  previously  piqued  by  the  aspect  of  the  girl  in 
the  gentleman’s  apparel,  had  applied  her  eye  to  the  keyhole  and 
seen  the  begrimed  young  man  in  the  ladies’  room. 

It  was  no  excuse  that  he  would  have  been  the  husband  of  the 
banker’s  daughter : he  had  to  yield  and  the  delighted  police  cap- 
tain hurried  to  send  the  telegram  to  the  Royal  Prosecutor,  as 
stated. 

Danglar’s  daughter  and  her  companion  proceeded  in  the  oppo- 
site direction,  to  Brussels. 


CHAPTER  LXI. 

THE  SPIRIT  OF  DEATH. 

Valentine  was  not  yet  recovered.  Bowed  down  with  fatigue, 
she  was  indeed  confined  to  her  bed,  and  it  was  in  her  own  room, 
and  from  the  lips  of  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  that  she  heard  of  all  the 
strange  events  we  have  related.  But  Valentine  was  so  weak  that 
this  recital  scarcely  produced  the  same  effect  it  would  have  done 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


425 


tiad  she  been  in  her  usual  health.  During  the  daytime  Valentine’s 
perceptions  remained  tolerably  clear,  owing  to  the  constant  presence 
of  M.  Noirtier,  who  ordered  himself  to  be  carried  to  his  grand- 
daughter’s room,  and  watched  her  with  his  paternal  tenderness  ; 
Villefort  also,  on  his  return  from  the  courts,  frequently  passed  an 
hour  or  two  with  his  father  and  child.  At  six  o’clock  Villefort  re- 
tired to  his  study,  at  eight  M.  d’Avrigny  arrived  himself,  bringing 
the  night  draught  prepared  for  the  girl,  and  then  M.  Noirtier  was 
carried  away.  A nurse  of  the  doctor’s  choice  succeeded  them, 
and  never  left  till  about  ten  or  eleven  o’clock,  when  Valentine  was 
asleep.  As  she  went  down-stairs  she  gave  the  keys  of  Valentine’s 
room  to  M.  Villefort,  so  that  no  one  could  reach  the  sick-room  ex- 
cepting through  Mdme.  de  Villefort’ s.  Every  morning  Morrel 
called  on  Noirtier  to  receive  news  of  Valentine,  and,  extraordinary 
as  it  seemed,  each  day  found  him  less  uneasy. 

Eleven  o’clock  had  struck.  Ten  minutes  had  elapsed  since  the 
nurse  had  left.  The  night-lamp  threw  out  countless  rays,  each 
resolving  itself  into  some  strange  form  to  her  disordered  imagina- 
tion, when  suddenly,  by  its  flickering  light,  Valentine  thought  she 
saw  the  door  of  her  library,  in  the  recess  by  the  chimney,  open 
slowly,  though  -she  in  vain  listened  for  the  sound  of  the  hinges  on 
which  it  turned.  At  any  other  time  Valentine  would  have  seized 
the  bell-pull,  and  summoned  assistance,  but  nothing  astonished 
her  in  her  present  situation.  Behind  the  door  a human  figure 
appeared  ; but  she  was  too  familiar  with  such  apparitions  to  be 
alarmed,  and  therefore  only  stared,  hoping  to  recognize  Morrel. 
The  figure  advanced  toward  the  bed,  and  appeared  to  listen  with 
profound  attention.  At  this  moment  a ray  of  light  glanced  across 
the  face  of  the  midnight  visitor. 

“It  is  not  he ! ” she  murmured,  and  waited,  in  the  assurance  of 
its  being  but  a dream,  for  the  man  to  disappear  or  assume  some 
other  form.  Still,  she  felt  her  pulse,  and,  finding  it  throb  vio- 
lently, she  remembered  that  the  best  method  of  dispelling  such 
illusions  was  to  drink,  for  a draught  of  the  beverage  prepared  by 
the  doctor  to  allay  her  fever  seemed  to  cause  a reaction  of  the 
brain,  and  for  a short  time  she  suffered  less.  Valentine  therefore 
reached  her  hand  toward  the  glass,  but  as  soon  as  her  trembling 
arm  left  the  bed  the  ghost  advanced  more  quickly  toward  her,  and 
approached  the  young  girl  so  closely  that  she  fancied  she  heard 
his  breath,  and  felt  the  pressure  of  his  hand.  This  time  the  illu- 
sion, or  rather  the  reality,  surpassed  anything  Valentine  had  be- 
fore experienced  ; she  began  to  believe  herself  really  alive  and. 
awake,  and  the  belief  that  her  reason  was  this  time  not  deceived 
made  her  shudder.  The  pressure  she  felt  was  evidently  to  arrest 
her  arm,  and  she  slowly  withdrew  it.  Then  the  figure,  from  whom 
she  could  not  detach  her  eyes,  and  who  appeared  more  protecting 
than  menacing,  took  the  glass,  and,  walking  toward  the  night- 
light,  held  it  up,  as  if  to  test  its  transparency.  This  did  not  seem 


426  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


sufficient ; the  phantom — for  he  trod  so  softly  that  no  sound  was 
heard — then  poured  out  about  a spoonful  into  the  glass,  and  drank 
it.  Valentine  witnessed  this  scene  with  a sentiment  of  stupefac- 
tion. Every  minute  she  had  expected  that  it  would  vanish  and 
give  place  to  another  vision  ; but  the  man,  instead  of  dissolving 
like  a shadow,  again  approached  her,  and  said  in  an  agitated 
voice,  “Now  you  may  drink.” 

Valentine  shuddered.  It  was  the  first  time  one  of  these  visions 
had  ever  addressed  her  in  a living  voice,  and  she  was  about  to 
utter  an  exclamation.  The  man  placed  his  finger  on  her  lips. 
“ The  Count  of  Monte-Cristo ! ” she  murmured. 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  no  doubt  now  remained  in  the  girl’s  mind 
as  to  the  reality  of  the  scene  ; her  eyes  started  with  terror,  her 
hands  trembled,  and  she  rapidly  drew  the  bed-clothes  closer  to 
her.  Still,  the  presence  of  Monte-Cristo  at  such  an  hour,  his  mys- 
terious, fanciful,  and  extraordinary  entrance  into  her  room,  through 
the  wall,  might  well  seem  impossibilities  to  her  shattered  reason. 
“ Do  not  call  any  one — do  not  be  alarmed,”  said  the  count  ; “ do 
not  let  a shade  of  suspicion  or  uneasiness  remain  in  your  breast ; 
the  man  standing  before  you,  Valentine  (for  this  time  it  is  no 
phantom),  is  nothing  more  than  the  tenderest  father  and  the  most 
respectful  friend  you  could  dream  of.” 

Valentine  could  not  reply. 

“ Listen  to  me,”  he  said,  “ or,  rather,  look  upon  me  ; look  at 
my  face,  paler  even  than  usual,  and  my  eyes,  red  with  weariness 
— for  four  days  I have  not  closed  them,  for  I have  been  constantly 
watching  you,  to  protect  and  preserve  you  for  Maximilian.” 
The  blood  mounted  rapidly  to  the  cheeks  of  Valentine,  for  the 
name  just  pronounced  by  the  count  dispelled  all  the  fear  with 
which  his  presence  had  inspired  her.  “Maximilian!”  she  ex- 
claimed, and  so  sweet  did  the  sound  appear  to  her,  that  she 
repeated  it — “ Maximilian  ! has  he  then  told  all  to  you  ? ” 

“ Everything.  He  told  me  your  life  was  his,  and  I have 
promised  him  you  shall  live. 

*'  Are  you  a doctor?” 

“ Yes,  the  best  you  could  have  at  the  present  time,  believe  me.” 

“ But  you  say  you  have  watched,”  said  Valentine,  with  an  in- 
dignant expression  of  pride  and  modest  fear  : “ Sir,  I think  you 
have  been  guilty  of  an  unparalleled  intrusion,  and  that  which  you 
Call  protection  is  more  resembling  an  insult.” 

“Valentine,”  he  answered,  “ during  my  long  watch  over  you, 
all  I have  observed  has  been  what  people  visited  you,  what  nour- 
ishment was  prepared,  and  what  beverage  was  served  ; then, 
when  the  latter  appeared  dangerous  to  me,  I entered,  as  I have 
now  done,  and  substituted>  in  the  place  of  the  poison,  a healthy 
draught  ; which,  instead  of  producing  the  death  intended,  caused 
life  to  circulate  in  your  veins.” 

" Poison!  Death!  ” exclaimed  Valentine,  half  believing  her* 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO , 


427 


self  under  the  influence  of  some  feverish  hallucination  ; "what 

are  you  saying,  sir?” "Hush!  my  child,”  said  Monte- 

Cristo,  again  laying  his  finger  upon  her  lips  ; “ I did  say  poison 
and  death.  But  drink  some  of  this;”  and  the  connt  took  a 
bottle  from  his  pocket,  containing  a red  liquid,  of  which  he  poured 
a few  drops  into  the  glass.  " Drink  this,  and  then  take  nothing 
more  to-night.”  Valentine  stretched  out  her  hand  ; but  scarcely 
had  she  touched  the  glass  than  she  drew  it  back  in  fear.  Monte- 
Cristo  took  the  glass,  and  drank  half  its  contents,  and  then  pre« 
sented  it  to  Valentine,  who  smiled,  and  swallowed  the  rest.  " Oh  i 
yes,”  she  exclaimed,  " I recognize  the  flavor  of  my  nocturnal  bev« 
erage  which  refreshed  me  so  much,  and  seemed  to  ease  my  ach« 
ing  brain.  Thank  you,  sir,  thank  you  ! ” 

" This  is  how  you  have  lived  during  the  last  four  nights,  Valen- 
tine,” said  the  count.  " But,  oh  ! how  I passed  that  time  ! Oh  ! 
the  wretched  hours  I have  endured  ! the  torture  to  which  I have 
submitted  when  I saw  the  deadly  poison  poured  into  your  glass, 
and  how  I trembled  lest  you  would  drink  it  before  I could  find 
time  to  throw  it  away  ! ” 

"Sir,”  said  Valentine,  at  the  height  of  her  terror,  "you  say 
you  endured  tortures  when  you  saw  the  deadly  poison  poured  into 
my  glass  ; but  if  you  saw  this  you  must  also  have  seen  the  per- 
son who  poured  it?” 

Yes.” 

" What  you  tell  me  is  horrible,  sir.  What  ? attempt  to  murder 
:me  in  my  father’s  house — in  my  room — on  my  bed  of  sickness  ? 
Oh  ! leave  me,  sir  ; you  are  tempting  me  ; you  make  me  doubt 
the  goodness  of  Providence  ; it  is  impossible,  it  cannot  be ! ” 

" Are  you  the  first  that  this  hand  has  stricken  ? Have  you  not 
seen  M.  de  Saint-Meran,  Mdme.  de  Saint-Meran,  Barrois,  all 
fall?  Would  not  M.  Noirtier  also  have  fallen  a victim,  had  not 
the  treatment  he  has  been  pursuing  for  the  last  three  years  neu- 
tralized the  effects  of  the  poision?  ” 

" Oh,  Heaven  !”  said  Valentine  ; " is  this  the  reason  why  grand- 
papa has  made  me  share  all  his  beverages  during  the  last  month  ? ” 

" Your  grandfather  knows,  then,  that  a poisoner  lives  here  ; 
perhaps,  he  even  suspects  the  person.  He  has  been  fortifying 
you,  his  beloved  child,  against  the  fatal  effects  of  the  poison, 
which  would  have  failed  from  the  constant  habit  of  imbibing  it. 
But  even  this  would  have  availed  little  against  a more  deadly 
medium  of  death  employed  four  days  ago,  which  is  generally  but 
too  fatal.” 

" But  who,  then,  is  this  assassin,  this  murderer  who  could  desire 
my  death  ?” 

" You  shall  know  it  now,  then,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  listening. 

" How  do  you  mean  ? ” said  Valentine,  looking  terrified  around. 

" Because  you  are  not  feverish  or  delirious  to-night,  but  thor- 
oughly awake  ; midnight  is  striking,  which  is  the  hour  murderers 


4.28  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

choose.  Summon  up  all  your  courage  ; still  the  beatings  of  youf 
heart ; do  not  let  a sound  escape  you,  and  feign  to  be  asleep  ; then 
you  will  see/’ 

And  with  this  fearful  injunction  the  count  disappeared  through 
the  door,  which  noiselessly  closed  after  him. 

Clocks  struck  the  hour  of  midnight  from  different  situations ; 
and,  excepting  the  rumbling  of  a few  carriages,  all  was  silent. 
Then  Valentine’s  attention  was  engrossed  by  the  clock  in  her 
room,  which  marked  the  seconds.  She  began  counting  them, 
remarking  that  they  were  much  slower  than  the  beatings  of  her 
heart ; and  still  she  doubted  : the  inoffensive  Valentine  could  not 
imagine  any  One  desiring  her  death.  Why  should  they  ? To 
what  end?  What  had  she  done  to  excite  the  malice  of  an  enemy? 
There  was  no  fear  of  her  falling  asleep.  One  terrible  idea  pressed 
upon  her  mind,  that  some  one  existed  in  the  world  who  had  at- 
tempted to  assassinate  her,  and  who  was  about  to  endeavor  to  do 
so  again.  Supposing  this  person,  wearied  at  the  inefficacy  of  the 
poison,  should,  as  Monte-Cristo  said,  have  recourse  to  steel! — 
What  if  the  count  should  have  no  time  to  run  to  her  rescue .' 
—What  if  her  last  moments  were  approaching,  and  she  would 
never  again  see  Morrel ! Twenty  minutes,  twenty  tedious  min- 
utes, passed  thus,  then  ten  more,  and  at  last  the  clock  struck  the 
half-hour.  Just  then  the  sound  of  finger-nails  slightly  scratching 
against  the  door  of  the  library  informed  Valentine  that  the  couni 
was  still  watching,  and  recommended  her  to  do  the  same  ; at  thn 
same  time,  on  the  opposite  side,  that  is,  toward  Edward’s  room, 
Valentine  fancied  she  heard  the  creaking  of  the  floor;  she  listened 
attentively,  holding  her  breath  till  she  was  nearly  suffocated  ; the 
lock  turned,  and  the  door  slowly  opened.  Valentine  had  raised 
herself  upon  her  elbow,  and  had  scarcely  time  to  throw  herself 
down  on  the  bed  and  shade  her  eyes  with  her  arm  ; then,  trem- 
bling, agitated,  and  her  heart  beating  with  indescribable  terror, 
she  waited  the  event. 

Some  one  approached  the  bed  and  undrew  the  curtains.  Val- 
entine summoned  every  effort,  and  breathed  with  that  regular 
respiration  which  announces  tranquil  sleep.  **  Valentine  ! ” said 
a low  voice.  Still  silent : Valentine  had  promised  not  to  wake. 
Then  everything  remained  still,  excepting  that  Valentine  heard  the 
almost  noiseless  sound  of  some  liquid  being  poured  into  the  glass 
she  had  just  emptied.  Then  she  ventured  to  open  her  eyelids, 
and  glance  over  her  extended  arm.  She  saw  a female  in  a white 
dressing-gown  pouring  a liquor  from  a phial  into  her  glass.  During 
this  short  time  Valentine  must  have  held  her  breath,  or  moved  in 
some  slight  degree,  for  the  woman,  disturbed,  stopped  and 
leaned  over  the  bed,  in  order  the  better  to  ascertain  whether  Val- 
entine slept : it  was  Mdme.  de  Villefort. 

On  recognizing  her  step-mother,  Valentine  could  not  repress  a 
shudder,  which  caused  a vibration  in  the  bed.  Mdme.  de  Ville* 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


429 


fort  instantly  stepped  back  close  to  the  wall,  and  there,  shaded  by 
the  bed-curtains,  she  silently  and  attentively  watched  the  slightest 
movement  of  Valentine.  The  latter  recollected  the  terrible  cau- 
tion of  Monte-Cristo  ; she  fancied  that  the  hand  not  holding  the 
phial  clasped  a long  sharp  knife.  Then  collecting  all  her  remain- 
ing strength,  she  forced  herself  to  close  her  eyes  ; but  this  simple 
operation  upon  the  most  delicate  organs  of  our  frame,  generally 
so  easy  to  accomplish,  became  almost  impossible  at  this  moment, 
so  much  did  curiosity  struggle  to  retain  the  eyelid  open  and  learn 
the  truth.  Mdme.  de  Villefort,  however,  reassured  by  the  silence, 
alone  disturbed  by  the  regular  breathing  of  Valentine,  again  ex- 
tended her  hand,  and,  half  hidden  by  the  curtains,  succeeded  in 
emptying  the  contents  of  the  phial  into  the  glass.  Then  she  re- 
tired so  gently  that  Valentine  did  not  know  she  had  left  the  room. 
She  only  witnessed  the  withdrawal  of  the  arm — that  fair  round 
arm,  of  a woman  but  twenty-five  years  old,  and  yet  spread  death 
around  her. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  sensations  experienced  by  Valen- 
tine during  the  minute  and  a half  Mdme.  de  Villefort  remained  in 
the  room.  The  tapping  against  the  library-door  roused  the  young 
girl  from  the  state  of  stupor  in  which  she  was  plunged,  and  which 
almost  amounted  to  insensibility.  She  raised  her  head  with  an 
effort.  The  noiseless  door  again  turned  on  its  hinges,  and  the 
Count  of  Monte-Cristo  reappeared. 

44  Did  you  recognize  ? ” Valentine  groaned.  41  Oh,  yes  ! ” she 
said,  44  I saw,  but  I cannot  believe  ! ” 

44  Would  you  rather  die,  then,  and  cause  Maximilian’s  death ?” 
44  Oh  ! ” repeated  the  girl,  almost  bewildered,  44  can  I not  leave 
the  house  ? — can  I not  escape  ? ” 

44  Valentine,  the  hand  which  now  threatens  you  will  pursue  you 
everywhere  ; your  servants  will  be  bribed,  and  death  will  be 
offered  to  you  disguised  in  every  shape.” 

44  But  did  you  not  say  that  my  kind  grandfather’s  precaution 
had  neutralized  the  poison?  ” 

44  Yes,  but  not  against  a strong  dose  ; the  poison  will  be  changed, 
and  the  quantity  increased.”  He  took  the  glass  and  raised  it  to 
his  lips.  44  It  is  already  done,”  he  said;  44  brucine  is  no  longer 
employed,  but  a simple  narcotic  ! I can  recognize  the  flavor  of 
the  alcohol  in  which  it  has  been  dissolved.  If  you  had  taken  that 
which  Mdme.  de  Villefort  has  poured  into  your  glass,  Valentine  ! 
you  would  have  been  dead  ! ” 

“ But,”  exclaimed  the  girl,  44  why  am  I thus  pursued  ? ” 

44  But  you  are  rich,  Valentine  ; you  have  200,000  livres  a year, 
and  you  prevent  her  son  from  enjoying  these  200,000  livres.” 

44  Edward  ? Poor  child  ! are  all  these  crimes  committed  on  his 
account  ? ” 

44  Valentine,  you  are  an  angel  1 ” 

44  But  why  is  my  grandfather  allowed  to  live  ? ” 


43° 


THE  COUNT  OE  MONTE  CRISTO. 


ff‘  It  was  considered,  that  you  dead,  the  fortune  would  naturally 
revert  to  your  brother,  unless  he  were  disinherited  ; and  besides,* 
the  crime  appearing  useless,  it  would  be  folly  to  commit  it.” 

“ Command  me,  sir — what  am  I to  do?” 

“You  must  blindly  take  what  I give  you.” 

“ Alas ! were  it  only  for  my  own  sake,  I should  prefer  to  die ! ” 
“You  must  not  confide  in  any  one — not  even  in  your  father.” 
“My  father  is  not  engaged  in  this  fearful  plot,  is  he,  sir?" 
asked  Valentine,  clasping  her  hands. 

“ No  ; and  yet  your  father,  a man  accustomed  to  judicial  ac- 
cusations, ought  to  have  known  that  all  these  deaths  have  not 
happened  naturally ; it  is  he  who  should  have  watched  over  you 
• — occupied  my  place — emptied  that  glass — and  risen  against  the 
assassin.  Spectre  against  spectre  ! ” he  murmured  in  a low  voice, 
as  he  concluded  his  sentence. 

“ Sir,”  said  Valentine,  “ I will  do  all  I can  to  live,  for  there  are 
two  beings  whose  existence  depends  upon  mine — my  grandfather 

and  Maximilian.” “I  will  watch  over  them  as  I have  over 

you.  Whatever  may  happen,  Valentine,  do  not  be  alarmed; 
though  you  suffer  ; though  you  loose  sight,  hearing  and  conscious- 
ness, fear  nothing  ; though  you  should  awake  and  be  ignorant 
where  you  are,  still  do  not  fear ; even  though  you  should  find 
yourself  in  a sepulchral  vault  or  coffin.” 

“ Alas  ! alas  ! what  a fearful  extremity  ? ” 

“ Valentine,  would  you  rather  denounce  your  step-mother  ? " 

“ I would  rather  die  a hundred  times — oh,  yes,  die  ! ” 

“ No,  you  will  not  die  ; but  will  you  promise  me,  whatever 
happens,  that  you  will  not  complain,  but  hope?  ” 

“ I will  think  of  Maximilian  ! ” 

“You  are  my  own  darling  child,  Valentine  ! I alone  can  save 
you,  and  I will ! ” 

Then  he  drew  from  his  waistcoat-pocket  the  little  emerald  box, 
raised  the  golden  lid,  and  took  from  it  a lozenge,  which  he  placed 
in  her  hand.  She  took  it,  and  looked  attentively  on  the  count ; 
Ihere  was  an  expression  on  the  face  of  her  intrepid  protector 
which  commanded  her  veneration.  She  evidently  interrogated 
him  by  her  look,  “ Yes,”  said  he.  Valentine  carried  the  pastille 
to  her  mouth,  and  swallowed  it.  “ And  now,  my  dear  child, 
adieu  for  the  present.  I will  try  and  gain  a little  sleep,  for  you 
are  saved.” 

“Go,”  said  Valentine,  “ whatever  happens,  I promise  you  not 
to  fear.” 

Monte-Cristo  for  some  time  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  girl,  who 
gradually  fell  asleep,  yielding  to  the  effects  of  the  narcotic  the 
count  had  given  her.  Then  he  took  the  glass,  emptied  three 
parts  of  the  contents  in  the  fireplace,  that  it  might  be  supposed 
Valentine  had  taken  it,  and  replaced  it  on  the  table ; then  he  dis« 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1ST0.  431 

Appeared,  after  throwing  a farewell  glance  on  Valentine,  who 
slept  with  the  confidence  and  innocence  of  an  angel. 

The  clock  striking  eight  awoke,  the  nurse,  who  came  in  a little  be- 
fore dawn.  Astonished  at  the  prolonged  sleep  of  the  patient,  and 
frightened  to  see  an  arm  hanging  out  of  bed,  she  advanced  to- 
ward Valentine,  and  for  the  first  time  noticed  the  white  lips.  She 
tried  to  replace  the  arm,  but  it  moved  with  a frightful  stiffness 
which  could  not  deceive  a sick-nurse.  She  screamed  aloud  ; then 
running  to  the  door  exclaimed, — “ Help  ! help ! ” 

But  before  the  doctor  and  the  father  could  reach  the  room,  the 
servants  who  were  on  the  same  floor  had  entered,  and  seeing 
Valentine  pale  and  motionless  on  her  bed,  they  lifted  up  their 
hands  toward  heaven  and  stood  transfixed,  as  though  struck  by 
lightning. 

“ Call  Mdme.  de  Villefort !— wake  Mdme.  de  Villefort ! ” cried 
the  lawyer  from  the  door  of  his  chamber,  which  it  seemed  he 
scarcely  dared  to  leave.  But  instead  of  obeying  him,  the  serv- 
ant stood  watching  M.  d’Avrigny,  who  ran  to  Valentine,  and 
raised  her  in  his  arms.  “What!  this  one,  too!  ” he  exclaimed. 
“'Oh!  when  will  this  cease  ? ” 

Villefort  rushed  into  the  room.  “ What  are  you  saying,  doc- 
tor? ” he  exclaimed,  rushed  into  the  room.  “ What  are  you  say- 
ing, doctor?”  he  exclaimed,  raising  his  hands  to  heaven. 

“ I say  that  Valentine  is  dead  ! ” replied  D’Avrigny,  in  a voice 
terrible  in  its  solemn  calmness. 

M.  de  Villefort  staggered  and  buried  his  head  in  the  bed.  On 
the  exclamation  of  the  doctor  and  the  cry  of  the  father,  the  serv- 
ants all  fled  with  muttered  imprecations  ; they  were  heard  running 
down  the  stairs  and  through  the  long  passages,  then  there  was  a 
rush  in  the  court,  afterwards  all  was  still  ; they  had,  one  and  all, 
deserted  from  the  accursed  house.  Just  then,  Mdme.  de  Ville- 
fort, in  the  act  of  slipping  on  her  dressing-gown,  threw  aside  the 
drapery,  and  fer  a moment  remained  still,  as  though  interrogating 
the  occupants  of  the  room,  while  she  endeavored  to  call  up  some 
rebellious  tears.  On  a sudden  she  stepped,  or  rather  bounded, 
with  outstretched  arms,  toward  the  table.  She  saw  D’Avrigny 
curiously  examining  the  glass,  which  she  felt  certain  of  having 
emptied  during  the  night.  It  was  now  a third  full,  just  as  it  was 
when  she  threw  the  contents  into  the  ashes.  The  spectre  of 
Valentine  rising  before  the  prisoner  would  have  alarmed  her  less. 
It  was,  indeed,  the  same  color,  as  the  draft  she  had  poured  into 
the  glass,  and  which  Valentine  had  drunk  ; it  was  indeed  the 
poison,  which  could  not  deceive  M.  d’Avrigny,  now  examining  it 
so  closely  : it  was  doubtless  a miracle  from  heaven,  that,  not- 
withstanding her  precautions,  there  should  be  trace  or  proof  re- 
maining to  denounce  the  crime.  While  Mdme.  de  Villefort  re- 
mained rooted  to  the  spot  like  a statue  of  terror,  and  Villefort, 
with  his  head  hidden  in  the  bedclothes,  saw  nothing  around  hi*£% 


43  2 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTG . 


D’Avrigny  approached  the  window,  that  he  might  the  better  ex- 
amine the  contents  of  the  glass,  and  dipping  the  tip  of  his  fingef 
in,  tasted  it.  44  Ah  ! ” he  exclaimed,  44  it  is  no  longer  brucine  that 
is  used  ; let  me  see  what  it  iG ! ” 

Then  he  ran  to  one  of  the  cupboards  in  Valentine’s  room,  which 
had  been  transformed  into  a medicine  closet,  and  taking  from  its 
silver  case  a small  bottle  of  nitric  acid,  dropped  a little  of  it  into 
the  liquor,  which  immediately  changed  to  a blood-red  color. 
44  Ah ! ” exclaimed  D’Avrigny,  in  a voice  in  which  the  horror  of 
a judge  unveiling  the  truth  was  mixed  with  the  delight  of  a 
student  discovering  a problem.  Mdme.  de  Villefort  was  over- 
powered;  her  eyes  first  flashed  and  then  swam;  she  staggered, 
toward  the  door,  and  disappeared.  Directly  afterward  the  distant 
sound  of  a heavy  body  falling  on  the  ground  was  heard,  but  no 
one  paid  any  attention  to  it ; the  nurse  was  engaged  in  watching 
the  chemical  analysis,  and  Villefort  was  still  absorbed  in  grief. 
M.  d’Avrigny  alone  had  followed  Mdme.  de  Villefort  with  his 
eyes,  and  watched  her  precipitate  retreat.  He  lifted  up  the 
drapery  over  the  entrance  to  Edward’s  room,  and  his  eye  reach- 
ing as  far  as  Mdme.  de  Villefort’ s apartment,  he  beheld  her 
extended  lifeless  on  the  floor. 

44  Go  to  the  assistance  of  Mdme.  de  Villefort,”  he  said  to  the 
nurse.  44  Mdme.  de  Villefort  is  ill.” 

44  But  Mdlie.  de  Villefort ” stammered  the  nurse. 

44  No  longer  requires  help,”  said  D’Avrigny,  44  since  sh^  Is 

dead.” 4 4 Dead! — dead!”  groaned  forth  Villefort,  in  a 

paroxysm  of  grief,  which  was  the  more  terrible  from  the  nov^ty 
of  the  sensation  in  the  iron  heart  of  that  man. 

44  Dead  ! ” repeated  a third  voice.  44  Who  said  Valentine 
dead?” 

The  two  men  turned  round,  and  saw  Morrel  standing  at  tie 
door,  pale  and  terror-stricken. 

Noirtierhad  encouraged  him  to  go. 

Villefort  rose,  half  ashamed  of  being  surprised  in  suet,  a 
; paroxysm  of  grief.  The  terrible  office  he  had  held  for  twenty- 
five  years  had  succeeded  in  making  him  more  or  less  than  man. 
His  glance,  at  first  wandering,  fixed  itself  upon  Morrel.  “Who 
are  you,  sir,”  he  asked,  44  that  forget  that  this  is  not  the  manner 
to  enter  a house  stricken  with  death?  Go,  sir,  go!”  But 
Morrel  remained  motionless ; he  could  not  detach  his  eyes  from 
that  disordered  bed,  and  the  pale  corpse  lying  on  it.  “Go!— 
do  you  hear?”  said  Villefort,  while  D’Avrigny  advanced  to 
lead  Morrel  out.  Maximilian  stared  for  a moment  at  the  corpse, 
gazed  all  round  the  room,  then  upon  the  two  men  ; he  opened 
his  mouth  to  speak,  but  finding  it  impossible  to  give  utterance 
to  the  innumerable  ideas  that  occupied  his  brain,  he  went  out, 
thrusting  his  hands  through  his  hair  in  such  a manner  that  Ville- 
fort and  D’Avrigny,  for  a moment  diverted  from  the  engrossing 


THE  CCHN2  CE  MONTE  CRISTO . 


433 

j&pk,  exchanged  glances,  which  seemed  to  convey,—"  He  is 
mad!”  , 

But,  in  less  than  five  minutes,  the  staircase  groaned  beneath 
an  extraordinary  weight.  Morrel  was  seen  carrying,  with  super- 
human strength,  the  arm-chair  containing  Noirtier  up-stairs. 
When  he  reached  the  landing,  he  placed  the  arm-chair  on  the 
floor  and  rapidly  rolled  it  into  Valentine’s  room.  This  could 
only  have  been  accomplished  by  means  of  unnatural  strength 
supplied  by  powerful  excitement.  But  the  most  fearful  spectacle 
was  Noirtier  being  pushed  toward  the  bed,  his  face  expressing 
all  his  meaning,  and  his  eyes  supplying  the  want  of  every  other 
faculty.  That  pale  face  and  flaming  glance  appeared  to  Ville- 
fort  like  a frightful  apparition.  Each  time  he  had  been  brought 
into  contact  with  his  father,  something  terrible  had  happened. 
" See  what  they  have  done  ! ” cried  Morrel,  with  one  hand  lean* 
ing  on  the  back  of  the  chair,  and  the  other  extended  toward  Valen- 
tine. "See,  father,  see  ! ” 

Villefort  drew  back  and  looked  with  astonishment  on  the  young 
man,  who,  almost  a stranger  to  him,  call  Noirtier  " father.”  At 
this  moment  the  whole  soul  of  the  old  man  seemed  centered  in  his 
eyes,  which  became  bloodshot ; the  veins  of  the  throat  swelled  ; 
his  cheeks  and  temples  became  purple,  as  though  he  was  struck 
with  epilepsy ; nothing  was  wanting  to  complete  this  but  the  ut- 
terance of  a cry.  And  the  cry  issued  from  his  pores,  if  we  may 
thus  speak — a cry,  frightful  in  its  silence.  D’Avrigny  rushed  to- 
ward the  old  man  and  made  him  inhale  a powerful  restorative. 
"Sir!  ” cried  Morrel,  seizing  the  moist  hand  of  the  paralytic, 
they  ask  me  who  I am,  and  what  right  I have  to  be  here  ? Oh, 
you  know  it,  tell  them,  tell  them!  ” And  the  young  man’s  voice 
was  choked  by  sobs.  As  for  the  old  man,  his  chest  heaved  with 
his  panting  respiration*  One  could  have  thought  he  was  under- 
going the  agonies  preceding  death.  At  length,  happier  than  the 
young  man,  who  sobbed  without  weeping,  tears  glistened  in  the 
eyes  ot  Noirtier.  " Tell  them,”  said  Morrel,  in  a hoarse  voice, 
M tell  them  I am  her  betrothed.  Tell  them  she  was  my  beloved, 
my  noble  girl,  my  only  blessing  in  the  world.  Tell  them — oh  ! 
tell  them,  that  corpse  belongs  to  me.”  The  young  man  who 

E resented  the  dreadful  spectacle  of  a strong  frame  crushed,  fell 
eavily  on  his  knees  before  the  bed,  which  his  fingers  grasped 
with  convulsive  energy.  D’Avrigny,  unable  to  bear  the  sight  of 
this  touching  emotion,  turned  away  ; and  Villefort,  without  seek- 
ing any  further  explanation,  and  attracted  toward  him  by  the 
irresistible  magnetism  which  draws  us  toward  those  who  have 
loved  the  people  for  whom  we  mourn,  extended  his  hand  toward 
the  young  man.  But  Morrel  saw  nothing  ; he  had  grasped  the 
hand  of  Valentine,  and,  unable  to  weep,  vented  his  agony  in 
gnawing  the  sheets.  For  some  time  nothing  was  heard  in  that 
chamber  but  sobs,  exclamations,  and  prayers.  At  length  Vilte* 


434 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR/STO. 


Jort,  the  most  composed  of  all,  spoke  : 44  Sir/*  said  he  to  Mavlmiban, 

" you  say  you  loved  Valentine,  and  were  betrothed  to  her.  I knew 
nothing  of  this  engagement,  or  love,  yet  I,  her  father,  forgive  you, 
for  I see  your  grief  is  real  and  deep  ; and,  besides,  my  own  sor- 
row is  too  great  for  anger  to  find  a place  in  my  heart.  But  you 
see  the  angel  whom  you  hoped  for  has  left  this  earth  has  nothing 
more  to  do  with  the  adoration  of  men.  Take  a last  farewell,  sir. 
of  her  sad  remains  ; take  the  hand  yon  expected  to  possess  once 
more  within  your  own,  and  then  separate  yourself  from  her  for 
ever.  Valentine  now  alone  requires  the  priest  who  will  bless 
her.” 

fl4  You  are  mistaken,  sir,"  exclaimed  Morrel,  raising  himself  on 
one  knee,  his  heart  pierced  by  a more  acute  pang  tkan  any  he 
had  yet  felt— 44  you  are  mistaken  ; Valentine,  dying  as  she  has, 
not  only  requires  a priest,  but  an  avenger.  You , M.  de  Villefort, 

send  for  the  priest;  / will  be  the  avenger.”- 44  What  do  you 

mean,  sir?  ” asked  Villefort,  trembling  at  the  new  idea  inspired  by 
the  delirium  of  Morrel. 

44  I tell  you,  sir,  that  two  persons  exist  in  you  ; the  father  has 
mourned  sufficiently,  now  let  the  Attorney  General  fulfil  h'ts 

office.” 

The  eyes  of  Noirtier  glistened,  and  D’ Avrigny  approached. 

41  Gentlemen,”  said  Morrel,  44 1 denounce  the  crime  ; it  is  your 
place  to  seek  the  assassin.”  The  young  man’s  implacable  eyes 
interrogated  Villefort,  who,  on  his  side,  glanced  from  Noirtier  to 
B’ Avrigny.  But  instead  of  finding  sympathy  in  the  eyes  of  the 
doctor  and  his  father,  he  only  saw  an  expression  as  inflexible  as 
of  Maximilian’s.  “Yes!”  indicated  the  old  man. 4 4 As- 

suredly ! ” said  D* Avrigny. 

44  Sir,”  said  Villefort,  striving  to  struggle  against  this  triple 
force  and  his  own  emotion, — 44  sir,  you  are  deceived,  no  one  com- 
mits crimes  here.  I am  stricken  by  fate.  It  is  horrible,  indeed, 
but  no  one  assassinates.** 

The  eyes  of  Noirtier  lighted  up  with  rage,  and  D’ Avrigny  pre- 
pared to  speak.  Morrel,  however,  extended  his  arm,  and  com- 
manded silence.  44  And  I say  that  murders  are  committed  here,” 
said  Morrel,  whose  voice,  though  lower  in  tone,  lost  none  of  its 
terrible  distinctness:  44 1 tell  you  that  is  the  fourth  victim  within 
the  last  four  months.  I tell  you,  Valentine’s  life  was  attempted  by 
poison  four  days  ago,  though  she  escaped,  owing  to  the  precau- 
tions of  M.  Noirtier.  I tell  you  that  the  dose  has  been  doubled,  the 
poison  changed,  and  that  this  time  it  has  succeeded.  I tell  you 
that  you  know  these  things  as  well  as  I do,  since  this  gentleman 
nas  forewarned  you,  both  as  a doctor  and  a friend.” 

44  Oh,  you  rave,  sir  ! ” exclaimed  Villefort,  in  vain  endeavoring 
to  escape  the  net  in  which  he  was  taken. 

44 1 rave?”  said  Morrel;  44  well,  then,  I appeal  to  Dr, 
d’Avrigny  himself.  Ask  him,  sir,  if  he  recollects  some  wouis  m 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR1STO. 


435 


uttered  in  the  garden  of  this  hotel  on  the  night  of  Mdme.  de  Saint* 
Meran’s  death.  You  thought  yourselves  alone,  and  talked  about 
that  tragical  death,  and  the  fatality  you  mentioned  then  is  the  same 
as  caused  the  murder  of  Valentine.”  Villefort  and  D’Avrigny 
exchanged  looks.  “Yes,  yes,”  continued  Morrel ; “recall  the 
scene,  for  the  words  you  thought  were  only  given  to  silence  and 
solitude  fell  into  my  ears.  Certainly,  after  witnessing  the  culpable 
indolence  manifested  by  M.  de  Villefort  towards  his  own  relatives, 

I ought  to  have  denounced  him  to  the  authorities ; then  I should 
not  have  been  an  accomplice  to  thy  death,  as  I now  am,  sweet,  be* 
loved  Valentine  : but  the  accomplice  shall  become  the  avenger. 
This  fourth  murder  is  apparent  to  all,  and  if  your  father  abandons 
you,'  Valentine,  it  is  I,  and  I swear  it,  that  will  pursue  the  assassin.” 
And  this  time,  as  though  nature  had  at  least  taken  compassion  on 
the  vigorous  frame,  nearly  bursting  with  its  own  strength,  the 
words  of  Morrel  were  stifled  in  his  throat ; his  breast  heaved  ; the 
tears,  so  long  rebellious,  gushed  from  his  eyes  ; and  he  threw  him- 
self, weeping,  on  his  knees,  by  the  side  of  the  bed. 

Then  D’Avrigny  spoke.  “And  I,  too,”  he  exclaimed,  in  a low 
voice,  “1  unite  with  M.  Morrel  in  demanding  justice  for  crime; 
my  blood  boils  at  the  idea  of  having  encouraged  a murderer  by 
my  cowardly  concession.” “Oh!  merciful  Heavens!”  mur- 

mured Villefort.  Morrel  raised  his  head,  and  reading  the  eyes  of 
the  old  man,  which  gleamed  with  unnatural  lustre, — “Stay,”  he 

said,  “ M.  Noirtier  wishes  to  speak.*’- “Yes,”  indicated  Noir- 

tier,  with  an  expression  the  more  terrible,  from  all  his  faculties 
being  centered  in  his  glance. 

“ Do  you  know  the  assassin?  " asked  Morrel. 

“Yes,”  replied  Noirtier. “And  will  you  direct  us?"  ex- 

claimed the  young  man.  “ Listen,  M.  d’Avrigny  ! listen  ! " 
Noirtier  looked  upon  Morrel  with  one  of  those  melancholy  smiles 
which  had  so  often  made  Valentine  happy,  and  thus  fixed  his  at- 
tention. Then,  having  riveted  the  eyes  of  his  interlocutor  on  his 
own,  he  glanced  toward  the  door. 

“ Do  you  wish  me  to  leave  ?"  said  Morrel  sadly. 

“Yes,”  replied  Noirtier. 

“Must  I leave  alone?  ” “ No." 

“ Who  am  I to  take  with  me? — the  prosecutor?**— “ No.*' 

“ The  doctor? ” “ Yes." 

“Oh!  " said  Villefort,  inexpressibly  delighted  to  think  the  in- 
quiries  were  to  be  made  privately,— “ 1 can  understand  my 
father,"  D’Avrigny  took  the  young  man’s  arm,  and  led  him  out 
of  the  room.  A more  than  deathlike  silence  then  reigned  in  the 
house.  At  the  end  of  a quarter  of  an  hour  a faltering  footstep 
was  heard,  and  Villefort  appeared  at  the  door  of  the  apartment 
where  D’Avrigny  and  Morrel  had  been  standing,  one  absorbed  in 
meditation,  the  other  with  grief.  “ You  can  come,"  he  said,  and 
led  them  back  to  Noirtier,  Morrel  looked  attentively  on  Villefort. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


His  face  was  livid,  large  drops  rolled  down  his  face  ; and  in  hi* 
fingers  he  held  the  fragments  of  a pen  which  he  had  torn  to  atoms. 

44 Gentlemen/’  he  said,  in  a hoarse  voice,  44  give  me  your  word  of 
honor  that  this  horrible  secret  shall  forever  remain  buried  amongst 
ourselves  ! ” The  two  men  drew  back. 

44  Justice  will  be  done,”  said  Villefort  44  My  father  has  revealed 
the  culprit’s  name  ; my  father  thirsts  for  revenge  as  much  as  you 
do,  yet  even  he  conjures  you  as  I do  to  keep  this  secret.  Rest  as- 
sured,  gentlemen,  that  within  three  days,  in  a less  time  than  justice 
would  demand,  the  revenge  I shall  have  taken  for  the  murder  of 
my  child  will  be  such  as  to  make  the  boldest  heart  tremble  ; ’ ’ and 
as  he  spoke  these  words  he  ground  his  teeth,  and  grasped  the  old 
man’s  senseless  hand. 

Morrel  rushed  to  the  bed,  and,  after  having  pressed  the  cold 
lips  of  Valentine  with  his  own,  hurriedly  left,  uttering  a long,  deep 
groan  of  despair  and  anguish.  We  have  before  stated  that  all  the 
servants  had  fled.  M.  de  Villefort  was,  therefore,  obliged  to  re- 
quest M.  d’Avrigny  to  superintend  all  those  arrangements  conse- 
quent upon  a death  in  a large  city,  more  especially  under  such 
suspicious  circumstances.  It  was  something  terrible  to  witness  the 
silent  agony,  the  mute  despair  of  Noirtier,  whose  tears  silently 
rolled  down  his  cheeks.  Villefort  retired  to  his  study,  and 
D’Avrigny  left  to  summon  the  coroner.  M.  Noirtier  could  not  be 
persuaded  to  quit  his  grandchild.  At  the  end  of  a quarter  of  an 
hour  M.  d’Avrigny  returned  with  his  associate  ; they  found  the 
outer  gate  closed  ,and  not  a servant  remaining  in  the  house ; Ville- 
fort himself  was  obliged  to  open  it.  But  he  stopped  on  the  land- 
ing ; he  had  not  the  courage  to  revisit  the  room  of  death.  The 
two  doctors,  therefore,  entered  the  room  alone.  Noirtier  was  near 
the  bed,  pale,  motionless,  and  silent  as  the  corpse.  The  coroner 
approached  with  the  indifference  of  a man  accustomed  to  spend 
half  his  time  amongst  the  dead  ; he  then  lifted  the  sheet  which 
was  placed  over  the  face,  and  just  unclosed  the  lips. 

"Alas!”  said  D’Avrigny,  4 she  is  indeed  dead,  poor  child! 

You  can  leave.” 44  Yes,”  answered  the  doctor  laconically, 

dropping  the  sheet  he  had  raised. 

The  doctor  then  laid  his  report  on  the  corner  of  the  table,  and, 
having  executed  his  office,  was  conducted  out  by  D’Avrigny. 
Villefort  met  them  at  the  door  of  his  study  ; having  in  a few  words 
thanked  the  coroner,  he  returned  to  D’Avrigny,  and  said, — 

44  And  now  the  priest.” 

44  Is  there  any  particular  priest  you  wish  to  pray  with  Valen* 
tine?”  asked  D’Avrigny. 

44  No,”  said  Villefort ; 41  fetch  the  nearest.” 

44  The  nearest,”  said  the  district  doctor,  44  is  a good  Italian  abb6, 
who  lives  next  door  to  you.  Shall  I call  on  him  as  I pass?  ” 

44  D’Avrigny,”  said  Villefort,  44  be  so  kind,  I beseech  you,  asto 
accompany  this  gentleman.  Here  is  the  key  of  the  door,  so  that 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTC 


43? 


!*0u  can  go  in  and  out  as  you  please : you  will  bring  the  priesl 
with  you,  and  will  oblige  me  by  introducing  him  into  my  child’s 
room.  ’ ’ 

As  the  doctors  entered  the  street,  they  saw  a man  in  a cassock 
standing  on  the  threshold  of  the  next  door.  “This  is  the  abbe  of 
whom  I spoke,”  said  the  doctor  to  D’Avrigny.  D’Avrigny 
accosted  the  priest.  “Sir,”  he  said,  “ are  you  disposed  to  confer 
a great  obligation  on  an  unhappy  father  who  has  just  lost  hU 
daughter?  I mean  M.  de  Villefort,  the  royal  prosecutor.” 

“ Ah  ! ” said  the  priest,  with  a marked  Italian  accent ; “ yes,  I 
have  heard  that  death  is  in  that  house.” 

“ It  is  a girl.” 

“ I know  it,  sir  ; the  servants  who  fled  from  the  house  informed 
me.  I also  know  that  her  name  is  Valentine,  and  I have  already 
prayed  for  her.” 

“Thank  you,  sir,”  said  D’Avrigny;  “since  you  have  com- 
menced your  sacred  office,  deign  to  continue  it.  Come  and 
watch  by  the  dead,  and  all  the  wretched  family  will  be  grateful  to 
you.” 

“I  am  going,  sir  ; ana  I do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  no  prayers 
will  be  more  fervent  than  mine.” 

D’Avrigny  took  the  priest’s  hand,  and  without  meeting  Villefort, 
engaged  in  his  study,  they  reached  Valentine’s  room,  which  on 
the  following  night  was  to  be  occupied  by  the  undertakers.  On 
entering  the  room,  Noirtier’s  eyes  met  the  abbe’s  and  no  doubt  he 
read  some  particular  expression  in  them,  for  he  remained  in  the 
room.  D’Avrigny  recommended  the  attention  of  the  priest  to  the 
living  as  well  as  to  the  dead,  and  the  abbe  promised  to  devote  his 
prayers  to  Valentine  and  his  attentions  to  Noirtier.  In  order, 
doubtless,  that  he  might  not  be  disturbed  while  fulfilling  his  sacred 
mission,  the  priest,  as  soon  as  D’Avrigny  departed,  rose,  and 
not  only  bolted  the  door  through  which  the  doctor  had  just  lefi^ 
but  also  that  leading  to  Mdme.  de  Villefort’ s room. 


CHAPTER  Lai!. 

DANGLARS’  SIGNATURE, 

The  next  morning  rose  sad  and  cloudy.  During  the  night  the 
Undertakers  had  executed  their  melancholy  office.  During  the 
evening  two  men  carried  Noirtier  from  Valentine  s room  into  his 
own,  and,  contrary  to  all  expectation,  there  was  no  difficulty  in 
withdrawing  him  from  his  child.  Abbe  Busoni  had  watched  till 
daylight,  and  then  left  without  calling  any  one.  D’Avrigny  re- 
turned about  eight  o’colck  in  the  morning  ; he  met  Villefort  on  his 


438  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 

way  to  Noirtier’s  room,  and  accompained  him  to  see  how  the  old 
man  had  slept.  They  found  him  in  the  large  arm-chair,  which 
served  him  for  a bed,  enjoying  a calm,  nay,  almost  a smiling 
sleep.  > 

“ Grief  has  stunned  him,”  replied  D’Avrigny  ; and  they  both 
returned  thoughtfully  to  the  study. 

“ See,  I have  not  slept,"  said  Villefort,  showing  his  undisturbed 
bed  ; “grief  does  not  stun  me.  I have  not  been  in  bed  for  two 
nights  ; but  then  look  at  my  desk ; I have  filled  out  those  papers, 
and  drawn  the  accusation  against  the  assassin  Benedetto.  Oh, 
work  ! work  ! my  passion,  my  joy,  my  delight ! it  is  for  you  to 
alleviate  my  sorrows!  " and  he  convulsively  grasped  the  hand  of 
D’Avirgny. 

At  twelve  o’clock  the  mourning-coaches  rolled  into  the  paved 
court,  and  the  street  was  filled  with  a crowd  of  idlers,  equally 
pleased  to  witness  the  festivities  or  the  mourning  of  the  rich,  and 
who  rush  with  the  same  avidity  to  a funeral  procession  as  to  the 
marriage  of  a duchess.  Gradually  the  reception-room  filled,  and 
some  of  our  old  friends  made  their  appearance — we  mean  Debray, 
Chateau-Renaud,  and  Beauchamp,  accompanied  by  all  the  leading 
men  of  the  day  at  the  bar,  in  literature,  or  the  army,  for  M.  de 
Villefort  moved  in  the  first  Parisian  circles,  less  owing  to  his  social 
■position  than  to  his  personal  merit.  $ 

“ Poor  girl ! " said  Debrav,  like  the  rest,  paying  an  involuntary 
tribute  to  the  sad  event, — “Poor  girl!  so  young!  so  rich!  so 
beautiful ! Could  you  have  imagined  this  scene,  Chateau-Renaud, 
when  we  saw  her,  at  the  most  three  weeks  ago,  about  to  sign  that 
contract?  " 

“Indeed,  no ! ” said  Chateau-Renaud.  “But  whom  are  you 
seeking,  Debray  ? " 

“I  am  seeking  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo,"  said  the  young 
jhan. 

“ I met  him  on  the  Boulevard,  on  my  road  here,"  said  Beau- 
champ. “ I think  he  is  about  to  leave  Paris  ; he  was  going  to  his 
banker." 

“His  banker?  Danglars  is  his  banker,  is  he  not?"  asked 
Chateau-Renaud  of  Debray. 

“ I believe  so,"  replied  the  secretary,  with  slight  uneasiness. 

Beauchamp  told  the  truth  when  he  said,  that  on  his  road  to  the 
funeral  he  had  met  Monte-Cristo,  who  was  directing  his  steps  to- 
ward Danglars’.  The  banker  saw  the  carriage  of  the  count  enter 
the  court-yard,  and  advanced  to  meet  him  with  a sad,  though 
affable  smile.  “Well!"  said  he,  extending  his  hand  to  Monte- 
Cristo,  “ I suppose  you  have  come  to  sympathize  with  me,  for  in- 
deed misfortune  has  taken  possession  of  my  house."  $ 

“Still,  baron,"  said  Monte-Cristo,  “family  griefs,  or  indeed 
any  other  aftlicition  which  would  crush  a man  whose  child  was  his 
only  treasure,  are  endurable  to  a millionaire.  Philosophers  may 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


439 


well  say,  and  practical  men  will  always  support  the  opinion,  that 
money  mitigates  many  trials  ; and  if  you  admit  the  efficacy  of  this 
sovereign  balm,  you  ought  to  be  very  easily  consoled  ; you,  the 
king  of  finance,  who  form  the  intersecting  point  of  all  the  powers 
of  Europe,  nay,  the  world ! ” 

Danglars  looked  at  him  obliquely,  as  though  to  ascertain 
whether  he  spoke  seriously.  “ Yes,”  he  answered,  “if  a fortune 

brings  consolation,  I ought  to  be  consoled  ; I am  rich.” “ So 

rich,  dear  sir,  that  your  fortune  resembles  the  pyramids  : if  you 
wished  to  demolish  them  you  could  not ; if  it  were  possible,  you 
v/ould  not  dare ! ” Danglars  smiled  at  the  good-natured  pleasan- 
try of  the  count.  “That  reminds  me,”  he  said,  “ that  when  you 
entered  I was  on  the  point  of  signing  five  little  bonds  ; I have 
already  signed  two,  will  you  allow  me  to  do  the  same  to  the 
others?  ” — — “ Pray  do  so.” 

There  was  a moment’s  silence,  during  which  the  noise  of  the 
banker’s  pen  was  alone  heard,  while  Monte-Cristo  examined  the 
gilt  mouldings  on  the  ceiling.  “ Are  they  Spanish,  Haitian  or 
Neapolitan  bonds?”  said  Monte-Cristo.  “ Neither,”  said  Dang- 
lars, smiling,  “ they  are  bonds  on  the  bank  of  France,  payable  to 
bearer.  Stay,”  he  added,  “ count,  you,  who  maybe  called  the 
emperor,  if  I claim  the  title  of  king  of  finance,  have  you  many 
pieces  of  paper  of  this  size,  each  worth  a million?  ” 

The  count  took  the  papers,  which  Danglars  had  so  proudly  pre- 
sented to  him,  into  his  hands,  and  read  : — 

“To  the  Governor  of  the  Bank.  Please  to  pay  to  my  order, 
from  the  fund  deposited  by  me,  the  sum  of  a million. 

“ Baron  Danglars.*' 

“ One,  two,  three,  four,  five,'*  said  Monte-Cristo;  “five  mill- 
ions! It  is  a fine  thing  to  have  such  credit ; really,  it  is  only  in 
France  these  things  are  done.  Five  millions  on  five  little  scraps 
of  paper ! — it  must  be  seen  to  be  believed.” 

" You  do  not  doubt  it  ? ” “ No  ! ” 

“ You  say  so  with  a tone ! stay,  you  shall  be  convinced  ; take 
my  clerk  to  the  bank,  and  you  will  see  him  leave  it  with  an  order 
on  the  Treasury  for  the  same  sum.” 

” No  ! ” said  Monte-Cristo,  folding  up  the  five  notes,  “ most  de- 
cidedly not ; the  thing  is  so  curious,  I will  make  the  experiment 
myself.  I am  credited  on  you  for  six  millions.  I have  drawn 
nine  hundred  thousand  francs,  you  therefore  still  owe  me  five 
millions  and  a hundred  thousand  francs.  I will  take  the  five 
scraps  of  paper  that  I now  hold  as  bonds,  with  your  signature 
alone,  and  here  is  a receipt  in  full  for  the  six  millions  between  us. 
I had  prepared  it  beforehand,  for  I am  much  in  want  of  money 
to-day.”  And  Monte-Cristo  placed  the  bonds  in  his  pocket  with 
one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he  held  out  the  receipt  to  Dan- 


440 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


glars.  If  a thunderbolt  had  fallen  at  the  banker’s  feet,  he  could 
not  have  experienced  greater  terror. 

“Then  I may  keep  this  money?” “Yes,”  said  Danglars, 

while  the  perspiration  started  from  the  roots  of  his  hair.  “Yes, 
keep  it — keep  it.” 

Monte-Cristo  replaced  the  notes  in  his  pocket  with  that  inde- 
scribable expression  which  seems  to  say,  “ Come,  reflect ; if  you 
repent  there  is  still  time.” 

“ No,”  said  Danglars,  “ no,  decidedly  no  ; keep  my  signatures. 
But  you  know  none  are  so  formal  as  bankers  in  transacting  busi- 
ness ; I intended  this  money  for  the  hospital,  and  I seemed  to  be 
robbing  them  if  I did  not  pay  them  with  these  precise  bonds. 
How  absurd ! as  if  one  crown  were  not  as  good  as  another.  Ex. 
cuse  me  ; ” and  he  began  to  laugh  loudly,  but  nervously. 

“ Certainly,  I excuse  you,”  said  Monte-Cristo, graciously,  “and 

pocket  them.”  And  he  placed  the  bonds  in  his  pocket-book. 

“ But,”  said  Danglars,  “ there  is  still  a sum  of  one  hundred  thou- 
sand  francs  ? ” 

“Oh!  a mere  nothing,”  said  Monte-Cristo.  “The  balance 
would  come  to  about  that  sum  ; but  keep  it,  and  we  shall  be 
quits.” 

“ Count,”  said  Danglars,  “ are  you  speaking  seriously?” 

“I  never  joke  with  bankers,”  said  Monte-Cristo  in  a freezing 
manner,  which  repelled  impertinence  ; and  he  turned  to  the  door, 
just  as  the  footman  announced, — “ M.  de  Boville,  receiver-gen- 
eral of  the  hospitals.” 

“ Faith!  ” said  Monte-Cristo  ; “ I think  I arrived  just  in  time  to 
obtain  your  signatures,  or  they  would  have  been  disputed  with 
me.” 

Danglars  again  became  pale,  and  hastened  to  conduct  the  count 
out.  Monte-Cristo  exchanged  a ceremonious  bow  with  M.  de 
Boville,  who  was  standing  in  the  waiting-room,  and  who  was  in- 
troduced into  Danglars*  room  as  soon  as  the  count  had  left.  The 
count’s  sad  face  was  illumined  by  a faint  smile,  as  he  noticed  the 
portfolio  which  the  receiver-general  held  in  his  hand.  At  the 
door  he  found  his  carriage,  and  was  immediately  driven  to  the 
bank.  Meanwhile  Danglars,  repressing  all  emotion,  advanced 
to  meet  the  receiver-general.  We  need  not  say  that  a smile  of 
condescension  was  stamped  upon  his  lips.  “ Good  morning,  cred- 
itor,” said  he  ; “for  I wager  anything  it  is  the  creditor  who  visits 

me.” “You  are  right,  baron,”  answered  M.  de  Boville  ; “I 

have  brought  my  receipt.” 

“My  dear  M.  Boville,  your  widows  and  orphans  must  oblige  me 
by  waiting  twenty-four  hours,  since  Monte-Cristo,  whom  you  just 
saw  leaving  here — has  just  carried  off  their  five  millions.” 

“ How  so  ? ” 

“ The  count  has  an  unlimited  credit  upon  me  ; a credit  opened 
by  Thomson  and  French,  of  Rome;  he  came  to  demand  five 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  44! 


millions  at  once,  which  I paid  him  with  the  cheques  on  the  bank; 
my  funds  are  deposited  there;  and  you  can  understand  that  if  I 
draw  out  ten  millions  on  the  same  day,  it  will  appear  rather  strange 
to  the  governor.  Two  days  will  be  a different  thing,”  said  Dan- 
glars,  smiling. 

“Come,”  said  Boville,  with  a tone  of  entire  incredulity,  “five 
millions  to  that  gentleman  who  just  left,  and  who  bowed  to  rne  as 

though  he  knew  me!  ” “ Here  is  his  receipt.  Believe  your 

own  eyes,”  M.  de  Boville  took  the  paper  Danglars  presented  him, 
and  read  : — 

«*  Received  of  Baron  Danglars  the  sum  of  five  millions  one  hun- 
dred  thousand  francs  ; which  will  be  repaid  when  ever  he  pleases 
by  the  house  of  Thomson  and  French  of  Rome.” 

“ It  is  really  true,”  said  de  Boville. 

“ Do  you  know  the  house  of  Thomson  and  French  ? ’* “ Yes, 

I once  had  business  to  transact  with  it  to  the  amount  of  200,000 

francs  ; but  since  then  I have  not  heard  it  mentioned.” “ It  is 

one  of  the  best  houses  in  Europe,”  said  Danglars,  carelessly 
throwing  down  the  receipt  on  his  desk. 

“And  he  had  five  millions  in  your  hands  alone!  Why,  this 
count  of  Monte-Cristo  must  be  a nabob?  ” 

“ Indeed  I do  not  know  what  he  is  ; he  has  three  unlimited 
credits — one  on  me,  one  on  the  Rothschild,  one  on  Lafitte  ; and 
you  see,”  he  added,  carelessly,  “he  has  given  me  the  preference, 
by  leaving  a balance  of  100,000  francs.”  M.  de  Boville  mani- 
fested signs  of  extraordinary  admiration.  “ I must  visit  him,”  he 
said,  “ and  obtain  some  pious  grant  from  him.” 

“ Oh  ! you  may  make  sure  of  him  ; his  charities  alone  amount 
to  20,000  francs  per  month.” 

“ It  is  magnificent ! I will  set  before  him  the  example  of  Mdme. 
de  Morcerf  and  her  son.  They  gave  all  their  fortune  to  the  hos- 
pitals, because  they  would  not  spend  money  so  guiltily  acquired.” 

* “ And  what  are  they  to  live  upon?  ” 

«*  The  mother  retires  into  the  country,  and  the  son  enters  the 
army.” 

“Well,  I must  confess,  these  are  queer  scruples.” 

“ I registered  their  deed  of  gift  yesterday.” 

“ And  how  much  did  they  possess  ? ” 

Oh ! not  much ! from  twelve  to  thirteen  hundred  thousand 
francs.  But  to  return  to  our  millions.” 

“ Certainly,”  said  Danglars  in  the  most  natural  tone  in  the 
world.  “ Are  you,  then,  pressed  for  this  money  ? ” 

“ Yes  ; for  the  examination  of  our  cash  takes  place  to-morrow.” 
“To-morrow  ! — Why  did  you  not  tell  me  so  before  ? Why,  it  is 
as  good  as  a century  ! At  what  hour  does  the  examination  take 
place  ? * * 


442 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


M At  two  o’clock.” 

“ Send  at  twelve,”  said  Danglars,  smiling. 

“ I will  come  myself.” 

“ Better  still,  since  it  will  afford  me  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you. 
They  shook  hands.  41  By  the  way,”  said  M.  de  Boville,  “ are  you 
not  going  to  the  funeral  of  poor  Mdlle.  de  Villefort,  which  I met 
on  my  road  here?” “No,”  said  the  banker;  “ I have  ap- 

peared rather  ridiculous  since  that  affair  of  Benedetto,  so  1 remain 
in  the  background.” 

“ Bah  ! you  are  wrong.  How  were  you  to  blame  in  that  affair  ! 
Everybody  pities  you,  sir  ; and,  above  all,  Mdlle.  Danglars ! ” 

*•  Poor  Eugenie  ! M said  Danglars  ; “ do  you  know  she  is  going 
to  embrace  a religious  life  ? she  decided  on  leaving  Paris  with  a 
nun  of  her  acquaintance  ; they  are  gone  to  seek  a very  strict  com 
vent  in  Italy  or  Spain.” 

“ Oh ! it  is  terrible  ! ” and  M.  de  Boville  retired  with  this  excla* 
tion,  after  expressing  acute  sympathy  with  the  father. 

But  he  had  scarcely  left  before  Danglars  exclaimed,  “ Fool ! ! ! ” 
Then,  enclosing  Monte-Cristo’s  receipt  in  a little  pocket-book,  he 
added : — “ Yes,  come  at  twelve  o’clock  ; I shall  then  be  fat 
away.”  Then  he  double-locked  his  door  ; emptied  all  his  drawers, 
collected  about  fifty-thousand  francs  in  bank-notes,  burned  sev- 
eral papers,  left  others  exposed  to  view,  and  then  commenced 
writing  a letter  to  his  wife. 

“ I will  place  it  on  her  dressing-table  myself  to-night,”  he  mur* 
mured.  Then  taking  a passport  from  his  drawer  he  said, — “ Good, 
it  is  available  for  two  months  longer." 


CHAPTER  LXIH. 

AFTER  THE  FUNERAL. 

M.  DE  Boville  had  indeed  met  the  funeral  procession  which 
conducted  Valentine  to  her  last  home  on  earth.  The  weather  was 
dull  and  stormy,  a cold  wind  shook  the  few  remaining  yellow 
leaves  from  the  boughs  of  the  trees,  and  scattered  them  amongst 
the  crowd  which  filled  the  Boulevards.  As  they  left  Paris,  an 
equipage  with  four  horses,  at  full  speed,  was  seen  to  draw  up  sud- 
denly : it  contained  Monte-Cristo.  The  count  left  the  carriage 
and  mingled  in  the  crowd  who  followed  on  foot.  At  length  they 
arrived  at  the  cemetery.  The  piercing  eye  of  Monte-Cristo 
glanced  through  clusters  of  bushes  and  trees,  and  was  soon  re- 
lieved from  all  anxiety,  for  he  saw  a shadow  glide  between  the 
yew-trees,  and  Monte-Cristo  recognized  him  whom  he  sought. 
When  the  procession  stopped,  this  shadow  was  recognized  as  Mor« 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


443 


re! ; who,  with  his  coat  buttoned  up  to  his  throat,  his  face  livid, 
and  convulsively  crushing  his  hat  between  his  fingers,  leaned 
against  a tree,  situated  on  an  elevation  commanding  the  mauso- 
leum, so  that  none  of  the  funeral  details  could  escape  his  obser- 
vation. Everything  was  conducted  in  the  usual  manner. 

Monte-Cristo  heard  and  saw  nothing,  or  rather  he  only  saw 
Morrel,  whose  calmness  had  a frightful  effect  on  those  who  knew  : 
what  was  passing  in  his  heart.  The  funeral  over,  the  guests  re-  j 
turned  to  Paris.  Chateau-Renaud  looked  for  a moment  for  Mor«  * 
rel  ; but  while  watching  the  departure  of  the  count,  Morrel  had 
quitted  his  post,  and  Chateau-Renaud,  failing  in  his  search,  joined 
Debray  and  Beauchamp. 

Monte-Cristo  concealed  himself  behind  a large  tomb,  and  waited 
the  arrival  of  Morrel,  who,  by  degrees,  approached  the  tomb  now 
abandoned  by  spectators  and  workmen.  Morrel  threw  a glance 
around,  but  before  it  reached  the  spot  occupied  by  Monte-Cristo, 
the  latter  had  advanced  yet  nearer,  still  unperceived.  The  young 
man  knelt  down.  The  count,  with  outstretched  neck,  and  glaring 
eyes,  stood  in  an  attitude  ready  to  pounce  upon  Morrel  upon  the 
first  occasion.  Morrel  bent  his  head  till  it  touched  the  stone,  then 
clutching  the  grating  with  both  hands,  he  murmured, — “Oh! 
Valentine!”  The  count’s  heart  was  pierced  by  the  utterance  of 
these  two  words  ; he  stepped  forward,  and  touching  the  young 
man’s  shoulder,  said, — “ I was  looking  for  you,  my  friend.” 
Monte-Cristo  expected  a burst  of  passion,  but  he  was  deceived,  for 
Morrel  turning  round,  said  with  calmness, — 

" You  see  I was  praying.”  The  scrutinizing  glance  of  the  count 
searched  the  young  man  from  head  to  foot.  He  then  seemed 
more  easy. 

“ Shall  I drive  you  back  to  Paris? ” he  asked. 

" No,  thank  you.” 

“ Do  you  wish  anything?” 

“ Leave  me  to  pray.”  The  count  withdrew  without  opposition, 
but  it  was  only  to  place  himself  in  a situation  where  he  could 
watch  every  movement  of  Morrel,  who  at  length  rose,  brushed  the 
dust  from  his  knees,  and  turned  toward  Paris,  without  once  look- 
ing back. 

“Ah,  count!”  exclaimed  Julie  with  the  delight  manifested 
by  every  member  of  the  family  whenever  he  visited. 

“Maximilian  has  just  returned,  has  he  not,  madame  ? ” asked 
the  count. 

“ Yes,  I think  I saw  him  pass  ; but  pray,  call  Emmanuel.” 

“ Excuse  me,  madame,  but  I must  go  up  to  Maximilian’s  room 
this  instant,”  replied  Monte-Cristo,  “ I have  something  of  the 
greatest  importance  to  tell  him.” 

"Go,  then,”  she  said,  with  a charming  smile,  which  accompa- 
nied him  until  he  had  disappeared.  Monte-Cristo  soon  ran  up  the 
staircase  conducting  from  the  ground-floor  to  Maximilian’s  room; 


444 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


when  he  reached  the  landing  he  listened  attentively,  but  all  wa$ 
still. 

“ What  shall  I do?”  he  uttered,  and  reflected  a moment; 
“shall  I ring?  No,  the  sound  of  a bell,  announcing  a visitor, 
will  but  accelerate  the  resolution  of  one  in  Maximilian’s  situation, 
and  then  the  bell  would  be  followed  by  a louder  noise.”  Monte- 
Cristo  trembled  from  head  to  foot,  and  as  if  his  determination  had 
been  taken  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning,  he  struck  one  ^f  the 
panes  of  glass  with  his  elbow  ; the  glass  was  shivered  to  atoms, 
then  withdrawing  the  curtain,  he  saw  Morrel,  who  had  been  writ* 
ing  at  his  desk,  b@und  from  his  seat  at  the  noise  of  the  broken 
window. 

“ I beg  a thousand  pardons  ! ” said  the  count,  “there  is  nothing 
the  matter,  but  I slipped  down  and  broke  one  of  your  panes  of 
glass  with  my  elbow.  Since  it  is  open,  I will  take  advantage  of  it 
to  enter  your  room  ; do  not  disturb  yourself — do  not  disturb  your* 
self!  ” And  passing  his  hand  through  the  broken  glass,  the  count 
opened  the  door.  Morrel,  evidently  discomposed,  came  to  meet 
Monte-Cristo,  less  with  the  intention  of  receiving  him  than  to  ex- 
clude his  entry. 

“Are  you  hurt,  sir?’1  coldly  asked  he. 

“ I believe  not.  But  what  are  you  about  there?  you  were  writ* 
lng.” 

“Ah,  true,  I was  writing.  I do  sometimes,  soldier  though  I 
am.” 

Monte-Cristo  advanced  into  the  room  ; Maximilian  was  obliged 
to  let  him  pass,  but  he  followed  him. 

The  count  looked  around  him.  “ Your  pistols  are  beside  your 
desk,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  pointing  with  his  finger  to  the  pistols  on 
the  table. 

“I  am  on  the  point  of  starting  on  a journey,”  replied  Morrel, 

disdainfully. “ My  friend  ! ” exclaimed  Monte-Cristo,  in  a tone 

of  exquisite  sweetness.- “Sir?” “My  friend,  my  dear 

Maximilian,  you  are  going  to  destroy  yourself!  ” 

“Indeed,  count!”  said  Morrel,  shuddering;  “what  has  put 
this  into  your  head?”— — “I  tell  you  that  you  are  about  to  de- 
stroy yourself,”  continued  the  count,  “and  here  is  the  proof  of 
what  I say  ; ” and,  approaching  the  desk,  he  removed  the  sheet 
of  paper  which  Morrel  had  placed  over  the  letter  he  had  begun, 
and  took  the  latter  in  his  hands. 

Morrel  rushed  forward  to  tear  it  from  him  ; but  Monte-Cristo, 
perceiving  his  intention,  seized  his  wrist  with  his  iron  grasp.  “ You 
wish  to  destroy  yourself,”  said  the  count  ; “ you  have  written  it.” 

“ Well ! ” said  Morrel,  changing  his  expression  of  calmness  for 
one  of  violence — “well,  and  if  I do  intend  to  turn  this  pistol 
against  myself,  who  shall  prevent  me — who  will  dare  prevent  me  ? 
You,  who  have  deceived  me  with  false  hopes,  who  have  cheered 
and  soothed  me  with  vain  promises,  when  I "night,  if  no1  have 


THE  COUAT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


445 


Saved  her,  at  least  have  seen  her  die  in  my  arms  ! you,  who  pre- 
tend to  understand  everything,  even  the  hidden  sources  of  knowl- 
edge ! you,  who  enact  the  part  of  a guardian  angel  upon  earth, 
and  could  not  even  find  an  antidote  to  a poison  administered  to 
a girl  ! Ah,  sir,  since  you  have  devised  a new  torture  after  I 
thought  I had  exhausted  them  all,  then.  Count  of  Monte-Cristo, 
my  pretended  benefactor — then,  Count  of  Monte-Cristo,  the  univer- 
sal guardian,  be  satisfied,  you  shall  witness  the  death  of  your 
friend  ; ” and  Morrel,  with  a maniacal  laugh,  again  rushed  towards 
the  pistols. 

“ And  I again  repeat,  you  shall  not  commit  suicide/* 

■*  Prevent  me,  then  ! **  replied  Morrel,  with  another  struggle, 
which,  like  the  first,  failed  in  releasing  him  from  the  count’s  iron 
grasp. 

“ I will  prevent  you. 

••  And  who  are  you,  then,  that  arrogate  to  yourself  this  tyranni- 
cal right  over  free  and  rational  beings?  ** 

“ Who  am  I ? **  repeated  Monte-Cristo.  “ He  who  saved  your 
father’s  life  when  he  wished  to  destroy  himself,  as  you  do  to-day 
—because  I am  the  man  who  sent  the  purse  to  your  young  sister, 
and  the  Pharaoh  to  Morrel — because  I am  the  Edmond  Dantes 
who  dandled  you,  a child,  on  my  knees.**  Morrel  made  another 
step  back,  staggering,  breathless,  crushed  ; them  all  his  strength 
gave  way,  and  he  fell  prostrate  at  the  feet  of  Monte-Cristo.  Then 
his  admirable  character  underwent  a complete  and  sudden  revul- 
sion ; he  rose,  bounded  out  of  the  room,  and  rushed  to  the  stairs, 
exclaiming  energetically,  “ Julie,  Julie!  Emanuel,  Emanuel ! ** 
Monte-Cristo  endeavored  also  to  leave,  but  Maximilian  would 
have  died  rather  than  relax  his  hold  of  the  handle  of  the  door, 
which  he  closed  upon  the  count.  Julie,  Emmanuel,  and  some  of 
the  servants,  ran  up  in  alarm  on  hearing  the  cries  of  Maximilian. 
Morrel  seized  their  hands,  and,  opening  the  door,  exclaimed,  in  a 
voice  choked  with  sobs,  “ On  your  knees ! on  your  knees  ! he  is 

our  benefactor — the  saviour  of  our  father  ! He  is ’* 

He  would  have  added  “Edmond  Dantes,”  but  the  count 
seized  his  arm  and  prevented  him.  Julie  threw  herself  into  into 
the  arms  of  the  count ; Emmanuel  embraced  him  as  a guardian 
angel ; Morrel  again  fell  on  his  knees,  and  struck  the  ground  with 
his  forehead.  Then  the  iron-hearted  man  felt  his  heart  swell  in  his 
breast , a flame  seemed  to  rush  from  his  throat  to  his  eyes  ; he 
bent  his  head.  For  a while,  nothing  was  heard  in  the  room  but  a 
succession  of  sobs,  while  the  incense  from  their  grateful  hearts 
mounted  to  heaven.  Julie  had  scarcely  recovered  from  her  deep 
emotion  when  she  rushed  out  of  the  room,  descended  to  the  next 
floor,  ran  into  the  drawing-room  with  childlike  joy,  and  raised  the 
crystal  globe  which  covered  the  purse  given  by  the  stranger. 
Meanwhile,  Emmanuel,  in  a broken  voice,  said  to  the  count,  “ Oh, 
count,  how  could  you,  hearing  us  so  often  speak  of  our  unknowa 


44« 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


beneVsa,ior,  seeing  us  pay  such  homage  of  gratitude  and  adora* 
tion  to  his  memory,  how  could  you  continue  so  long  without  dis< 
covering  yourself  to  us  ? Oh,  it  was  cruel  to  as,  and — dare  I say 
it? — to  you  also.’* 

“Listen,  my  friends,”  said  the  count — “ I may  call  you  so, 
since  we  have  really  been  friends  for  the  last  eleven  years  : the 
discovery  of  this  secret  has  been  occasioned  by  a great  event 
which  you  must  never  know.  I wish  to  bury  it  during  my  whole 
life  in  my  own  bosom,  but  your  brother  Maximilian  wrested  it 
from  me  by  a violence  he  repents  of  now,  I am  sure.”  Then  turn- 
ing round,  and  seeing  that  Morrel,  still  on  his  knees,  had  thrown 
himself  into  an  arm-chair,  he  added  in  a low  voice,  pressing 
Emmanuel’s  hand  significantly  : “ My  kind  friends,  leave  me 

alone  with  Maximilian.”  Julie  drew  her  husband  to  the  door. 
“ Let  us  leave  them,”  she  said. 

The  count  was  alone  with  Morrel,  who  remained  motionless  as 
a statue. 

“Come,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  touching  his  shoulder  with  his 
finger,  “ are  you  a man  again,  Maximilian  ? ” 

“ O,  do  not  fear,  my  friend,”  said  Morrel,  raising  his  head, 
and  smiling  with  a sweet  expression  ; “ I shall  no  longer  attempt 
my  life.  My  grief  will  kill  me  of  itself.” 

“My  friend,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  with  an  expression  of  melan- 
choly equal  to  his  own,  “listen  to  me:  one  day,  in  a moment  of 
despair  like  yours,  since  it  led  to  a similar  resolution,  I,  like  you, 
wished  to  kill  myself  ; one  day  your  father,  equally  desperate, 
wished  to  kill  himself  too.  If  any  one  had  said  to  your  father,  at  the 
moment  he  raised  the  pistol  to  his  head — if  any  one  had  told  me, 
when  in  my  prison  I pushed  back  the  food  I had  not  tasted  for 
three  days — if  any  one  had  said  to  either  of  us  then,  * Live  ! the 
day  will  come  when  you  will  be  happy,  and  will  bless  life  ! 3~- no 
matter  whose  voice  had  spoken,  we  should  have  heard  him  with 
the  smile  of  doubt,  or  the  anguish  of  incredulity  ; and  yet  how 
many  times  has  your  father  blessed  life  while  embracing  you! 
how  often  have  I myself -” 

“Ah!”  exclaimed  Morrel,  interrupting  the  count,  “you  had 
only  lost  your  liberty,  my  father  had  only  lost  his  fortune,  but  I 
have  lost  my  love.” 

“Look  at  me,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  with  that  expression  which 
sometimes  made  him  so  eloquent  and  persuasive — “ I have  told 
you  to  hope.” 

“ Then  have  a care,  1 repeat,  for  you  seek  to  persuade  me.  and 
if  you  succeed  I should  lose  my  reason,  fori  should  hope  that  I 
could  again  behold  Valentine.”  The  count  smiled. 

“ I tell  you  to  hope,  because  I have  a method  of  curing  you.” 

“Count,  you  render  me  sadder  than  before,  if  it  be  possible. 
You  think  the  result  of  this  blow  has  been  to  produce  an  ordinary 
grief,  and  you  would  cure  it  by  an  ordinary  remedy— change 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


447 


scene.*'  And  Morrel  dropped  his  head  with  disdainful  incredulity. 
•‘What  can  I say  more?”  asked  Monte-Cristo.  “I  have  con- 
fidence in  the  remedy  I propose,  and  only  ask  you  to  permit  me  to 
assure  you  of  its  efficacy.” 

“Count,  you  prolong  my  agony.**  \ 

“ I feel  so  much  pity  towards  you,  Maximilian,  that — listen  to  \ 
me  attentively — if  I do  not  cure  you  in  a month,  to  the  day,  to 
the  very  hour,  mark  my  words,  Morrel,  I will  place  loaded  pistols 
before  you,  and  a cup  full  of  the  deadliest  Italian  poison — a poison 
more  sure  and  prompt  than  that  aimed  at  Valentine.” 

“ In  a month,  then,  on  your  honor,  if  I ara  not  consoled,  you  will 
let  me  take  my  life  into  my  own  hands,  and,  whatever  may  hap* 
pen,  you  will  not  call  me  ungrateful?  ** 

“In  a month  you  will  find  on  the  table,  at  which  we  shall  be 
then  sitting,  good  pistols  and  a delicious  draught ; but,  on  the  other 
hand,  you  must  promise  me  not  to  attempt  your  life  before  thaf 
time.” 

“Oh!  I also  swear  it.’*  Monte-Cristo  drew  the  young  man  to- 
ward  him,  and  pressed  him  for  some  time  to  his  heart.  “And 
now,”  he  said,  “ after  to-day,  you  will  come  and  live  with  me  ; 
you  can  occupy  Haydee’s  apartment,  and  my  daughter  will  at 
least  be  replaced  by  my  son.” 


CHAPTER  LXIV. 

THE  ASSIZES. 

The  Benedetto  Case,  as  it  was  called  in  the  high  court,  and 
best  resorts,  in  general,  had  produced  a tremendous  sensation* 
Every  one,  therefore,  ran  to  the  court : some  to  witness  the  sight, 
others  to  comment  upon  it. 

It  was  one  of  those  magnificent  autumn  days  which  make 
amends  for  a short  summer.  One  of  the  softest  and  most  brilliant 
days  of  September  shone  forth  in  all  its  splendor. 

Beauchamp,  one  of  the  kings  of  the  press,  and  therefore  claim- 
ing the  right  of  a throne  everywhere,  was  looking  round  on  every 
side.  He  perceived  Chateau-Renaud,  and  Debray,  who  had  just 
gained  the  good  graces  of  an  usher  and  persuaded  the  latter  to  let 
them  stand  before,  instead  of  behind  him.  The  worthy  officer  had 
recognized  the  minister’s  secretary  and  the  millionnaire,  and,  by 
way  of  paying  extra  attention  to  his  noble  neighbors,  promised 
keep  their  places  while  they  paid  a visit  to  Beauchamp. 

“ Well ! **  said  Beauchamp,  “ we  shall  see  our  friend  ! ** 

“Yes,  indeed  ! ’*  replied  Debray.  “That  worthy  prince.  Deuce 
take  those  Italian  princes  l *' 


448 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


“ Ball  !”  said  Beauchamp,  “ he  played  the  prince  very  well.” 

“ Yes,  for  you  who  detest  those  unhappy  princes,  Beauchamp, 
and  are  always  delighted  to  find  fault  with  them*  but  not  for  me, 
who  discover  a gentleman  by  instinct,  and  who  scent  out  an  aris- 
tocratic family  like  a very  bloodhound  of  heraldry.” 

" Then  you  never  believed  in  the  principality  ? ” 

“ Yes  ! in  the  principality,  but  not  in  the  prince. '* 

" Not  so  bad,”  said  Beauchamp.  “ Stay,  surely  I am  not  de° 
ceived.  They  said  she  had  left  town  ? ” 

"Mdlle.  Eugenie?*'  said  Chateau-Renaud  ; "has  she  come 
here  ? ” 

“ No ! but  her  mother.'* 

" Mdme.  Danglars?  Nonsense  ! Impossible  .'  " said  Chateau- 
Renaud  ; “ only  ten  days  after  the  flight  of  her  daughter,  and  three 
days  from  the  bankruptcy  of  her  husband  ? ” 

Debray  colored  slightly,  and  followed  with  his  eyes  the  direc- 
tion of  Beauchamp’s  glance. 

“ Come,”  he  said,  “ it  is  only  a veiled  lady,  some  foreign  prin- 
cess ; perhaps  the  mother  of  Cavalcanti.  But  how  is  it  that 
Mdme.  de  Villefort  is  not  here  ? ” 

M Poor,  dear  woman  ! ” said  Debray,  ••  she  is  no  doubt  occu- 
pied in  distilling  balm  for  the  hospitals,  or  in  making  cosmetics  for 
lierself  or  friends.  Do  you  know  she  spends  two  or  three  thou- 
sand crowns  a year  :n  this  amusement  ? But  I wonder  she  is  not 
here.  I should  have  been  pleased  to  see  her,  for  I like  her  very 
much.” 

" And  I hate  her/J  said  Chateau-Renaud.  '•  But  to  return  to 
what  you  were  saying,  Beauchamp.” 

•*  Well ! do  you  know  why  people  die  so  fast  in  M.  de  Villen 
fort’s  house  ? No?  Well,  gentlemen,  the  reason  people  die  so  fast  at 
M.  de  Villefort’ s,  is,  that  there  is  an  assassin  in  the  house  ! ” 

The  two  young  men  shuddered,  for  the  same  idea  had  more 
than  once  occurred  to  them.  “ And  who  is  the  assassin?”  they 
asked  together.  1 

<4  Little  Edward  ! " A burst  of  laughter  from  the  auditors  did 
not  in  the  least  disconcert  the  speaker,  who  continued:  “Yes, 

gentlemen  ; Edward,  who  is  quite  an  adept  in  the  art  of  killing.” 
“ It  is  absurd,”  said  Debray. 

“ Does  his  mother,  then,  keep  poisons  in  her  laboratory  ? ” 

••  How  can  I tell?  You  are  questioning  me  like  a prosecutor  f 
I only  repeat  what  I have  been  told.” 

••  It  is  incredible  ! “ No,  my  dear  fellow,  it  is  not  at  all  in- 

credible i The  generation  who  follow  us  are  very  precocious ! ” 

" I do  not  see  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  here  ! ” 

•*  He  is  worn  out,”  said  Debray  ; “ besides,  he  could  not  well 
appear  in  public,  since  he  has  been  the  dupe  of  the  Cavalcanti, 
who,  it  appears,  presented  themselves  to  him  with  false  letters  qi 
credit,  and  ''heated,  him  qv» t of  x&q,qqo  francs  upon  the  hypothec 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  449 

Of  this  principality.” " Ahp  now  I think  of  it,  the  Count  of 

Monte-Cristo  cannot  appear  in  the  hall ! ” said  Beauchamp.™— 
u Why  not?  ” 

“ Because  he  is  an  actor  in  the  drama/* 

" Has  he  assassinated  any  one  then?  ” " No,  on  the  con- 

trary, they  tried  to  assassinate  him.  You  know  that  it  was  in  leav- 
ing his  house  that  Caderousse  was  murdered  by  his  friend  Bene- 
detto. You  know  that  the  famous  waistcoat  was  found  in  his 
house,  containing  the  letter  which  stopped  the  signature  of  the 
marriage-contract.  Do  you  see  the  waistcoat  ? There  it  is,  all 
blood-stained,  on  the  desk,  as  a testimony  of  the  crime.’* 

"Ah,  very  good.”-- — "Hush,  gentlemen  1 here  is  the  courts 
let  us  go  back  to  our  places.” 

The  judges  took  their  places  in  the  midst  of  the  most  profound 
silence  ; the  jury  took  their  seats  ; M.  de  Villefort,  the  object  of 
unusual  attention,  almost  of  general  admiration,  sat  in  the  arm- 
chair, and  cast  a tranquil  glance  around  him.  Every  person 
looked  with  astonishment  on  that  grave  and  severe  face,  the  calm 
expression  of  which  personal  griefs  had  been  unable  to  disturb  ; 
and  the  aspect  of  a man  who  was  a stranger  to  all  human  emor 
tions,  excited  a kind  of  terror. 

" Officers  ! **  said  the  president,  " lead  in  the  accused.” 

At  these  words  the  public  attention  became  more  intense,  and 
all  eyes  were  turned  towards  the  door  through  which  Benedetto 
was  to  enter.  The  door  soon  opened,  and  the  accused  appeared. 
The  same  impression  was  experienced  by  all  present  ; and  no  one 
was  deceived  by  the  expression  of  his  countenance.  His  featured 
bore  no  sign  of  that  deep  emotion  which  stops  the  beating  of  the 
heart  and  blanches  the  cheek.  His  hands,  gracefully  placed,  one 
upon  his  hat,  the  other  in  the  opening  of  his  white  waistcoat,  were 
not  at  all  tremulous ; his  eye  was  calm,  and  even  brilliant. 
Scarcely  had  he  entered  the  hall,  when  he  glanced  at  the  whole 
body  of  magistrates  and  assistants : his  eye  rested  longer  on  the 
president,  and  still  more  so  on  the  official  accuser.  By  the  side  of 
Andrea  was  placed  the  lawyer  who  was  to  conduct  his  defence, 
chosen  by  the  court  ; for  Andrea  disdained  to  pay  any  attention  to 
those  details.  The  lawyer  was  a young  man  whose  face  expressed 
a hundred  times  more  emotion  than  that  which  characterized  the 
prisoner. 

The  president  called  for  the  indictment,  corrected,  as  we  know, 
by  the  sharp  and  implacable  pen  of  Villefort.  During  the  reading 
of  this,  which  was  long,  attention  was  continually  drawn  toward 
Andrea,  who  bore  the  burden  with  Spartan  unconcern.  Villefort  had 
never  been  so  concise  and  eloquent : the  crime  was  represented 
under  the  liveliest  colors  ; the  former  life  of  the  prisoner,  his  trans- 
formation, a review  of  his  life  from  the  earliest  period,  were  set 
forth  with  all  the  talent  that  a knowledge  of  human  life  could  fur 
/lish  to  a mind  like  that  of  the  procurer  du  roi.  Benedetto  was 

29 


4JO 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


thin*  for  ever  ruined  in  public  opinion  before  the  sentence  o i th« 
law  could  be  pronounced.  Andrea  paid  no  attention  to  the  sue* 
cessive  charges  which  were  brought  against  him.  M.  de  Villefort, 
who  examined  him  attentively,  and  who  no  doubt  practised  upon 
him  all  the  psychological  studies  he  was  accustomed  to  use,  in 
vain  endeavored  to  make  him  lower  his  eyes,  notwithstanding  the 
depth  and  profundity  of  his  gaze.  At  length  the  charge  was  read. 

“ Accused,”  said  the  president,  “ your  name  and  surname  ?M 

Andrea  arose.  “ Excuse  me,  sir,”  he  said,  in  a clear  voice,  “ but 
I see  you  are  going  to  adopt  a course  of  questions  through  which  I 
cannot  follow  you.  I have  an  idea,  which  I will  explain  by-and- 
oy,  of  making  an  exception  to  the  usual  form  of  accusation.  Allow 
me,  then,  if  you  please,  to  answer  in  different  order,  or  I will  not 
do  so  at  all.”  The  astonished  president  looked  at  the  jury,  who 
themselves  looked  upon  the  prosecutor.  The  whole  assembly 
manifested  great  surprise  ; but  Andrea  appeared  quite  unmoved. 

“ Your  age  ? ” said  the  president : “ will  you  answer  that  ques- 
tion?”  “ I will  answer  that  question,  as  well  as  the  rest,  sir, 

but  in  its  turn.” 

“ Your  age?”  repeated  the  president. 

“ I am  twenty-one  years  old  ; or  rather  I shall  be  in  a few  days, 
as  I was  born  the  night  of  the  27th  of  September,  1817.”  Ville- 
fort,  who  was  busy  taking  down  some  notes,  raised  his  head  at  the 
mention  of  this  date. 

“ Where  were  you  born  ? ” continued  the  president. 

“ At  Auteuil,  near  Paris.”  M.  de  Villefort  a second  time  raised 
his  head,  looked  at  Benedetto,  as  if  he  had  been  gazing  at  the 
head  of  Medusa,  and  became  livid.  As  for  Benedetto,  he  grace- 
fully wiped  his  lips  with  a fine  cambric  pocket-handkerchief. 

46  Your  profession  ? ” 

M First  I was  a forger,”  answered  Andrea,  as  calmly  as  possi* 
ble  ; “then  I became  a thief ; and,  lately,  have  become  a mur- 
derer.” A murmur,  or  rather  storm,  of  indignation  burst  from  all 
parts  of  the  assembly.  The  judges  themselves  appeared  stupefied ; 
and  the  jury  manifested  tokens  of  disgust  for  a stoicism  so  uncx- 

Eected  from  a fashionable  man.  Villefort  pressed  his  hand  upon 
is  brow,  which,  at  first  pale,  had  become  red  and  burning  ; then 
he  suddenly  rose,  and  looked  around  as  though  he  had  lost  his 
senses — he  wanted  air. 

“Are  you  looking  for  anything,  sir  ? ” asked  Benedetto,  with  his 
most  pleasing  smile.  Villefort  answered  nothing,  but  sat,  or  rather 
threw  himself  down  again  upon  his  chair. 

“ And  now,  prisoner,  will  you  consent  to  tell  your  name  ? ” said 
the  president.  “ The  brutal  affectation  with  which  you  have 
enumerated  and  classified  you  crimes  calls  for  a severe  reprimand 
on  the  part  of  the  court,  both  in  the  name  of  morality,  and  for  the 
respect  due  to  humanity.  You  appear  to  consider  this  a point  of 
honor,  and  it  may  be  for  this  reason  you  have  delayed  acknowl- 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 45 1 

edging  your  name.  You  wished  it  to  be  preceded  by  all  these 
titles.” 

* ‘ It  is  quite  wonderful,  sir,  how  fully  you  have  read  my 
thoughts,’’  said  Benedetto,  in  his  sofest  voice  and  most  polite 
manner.  “ This  is,  indeed,  the  reason  1 begged  you  to  alter  the 
order  of  the  questions.”  The  public  astonishment  had  reached 
its  height.  There  was  no  longer  any  deceit  or  bravado  in  the 
manner  of  the  accused.  The  audience  seemed  to  dread  some 
thunder-cloud  would  burst  over  the  gloomy  scene. 

“ Well ! ” said  the  president  ; M your  name  ? ” 

“ I cannot  tell  you  my  name,  since  I do  not  know  it ; but  I know 
piy  father’s,  and  will  utter  it.” 

“Repeat  your  father’s  name,”  said  the  president.  Not  a 
whisper,  not  a breath  was  heard  in  that  vast  assembly  ; every  one 
waited  anxiously. 

“ My  father  is  the  Attorney-General,”  replied  Andrea,  calmly. 

“The  Attorney-General?”  said  the  president,  stupefied,  and 
without  noticing  the  agitation  which  spread  over  the  face  of  M.  de 

Villefort. “ Yes  ; and  if  you  wish  to  know  his  name,  I will  tell 

it, — it  is  Villefort.” 

The  explosion,  which  had  been  so  long  restrained,  from  a feel- 
ing of  respect  to  the  court  of  justice,  now  burst  forth  like  thunder 
from  the  breasts  of  all  present ; the  court  itself  did  not  seek  to  re« 
strain  the  movement.  The  exclamations,  and  insults  addressed  ta 
Benedetto,  who  remained  perfectly  unconcerned,  the  energetic 
gestures,  the  stir  of  the  gendarmes,  the  sneers  of  the  scum  of  the 
crowd — always  sure  to  rise  to  the  surface  in  case  of  any  distur- 
bance-all this  lasted  five  minutes,  before  the  door-keepers  and 
magistrates  were  able  to  restore  silence.  In  the  midst  of  this 
tumult  the  voice  of  the  president  was  heard  to  exclaim, — “ Are 
you  playing  with  justice,  prisoner,  and  do  you  dare  set  your  fel- 
low-citizens an  example  of  disorder  which  even  in  these  times  has 
never  been  equaled?  ” 

Order  was  re-established  in  the  hall,  with  the  exception  of  a few 
who  still  moved  and  whispered.  A lady,  it  was  said,  had  just 
fainted  ; supplied  with  a smelling-bottle,  she  had  recovered.  Dur- 
ing the  tumult,  Andrea  had  kept  his  smiling  face  toward  the  as- 
sembly ; then,  leaning  with  one  hand  on  the  oaken  rail  of  his 
bench,  in  the  most  graceful  attitude  possible,  he  said: — “Gen- 
tlemen, I assure  you  I had  no  idea  of  insulting  the  court,  or  of 
making  a useless  disturbance  in  the  presence  of  this  honorable 
assembly.  You  ask  my  age  ; I tell  it.  You  ask  where  I was 
born  ; I answer.  You  ask  my  name  ; I cannot  give  it,  since  my 
parents  abandoned  me.  But  though  I cannot  give  my  own  name, 
not  possessing  one,  I can  tell  them  my  father’s.  Now  I repeat, 
my  father  is  named  Villefort,  and  I am  ready  to  prove  it.” 

There  was  an  energy,  a conviction,  and  a sincerity  in  the  man- 
wet  i.f  the  young  m&n,  which  silenced  the  tumult,  All  eyet 


452 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


were  turned  for  a moment  toward  the  procureur  du  roi,  who  sat 
as  motionless  as  though  a thunderbolt  had  changed  him  into  a 
corpse.  “Gentlemen!”  said  Andrea,  commanding  silence  by 
his  voice  and  manner.  “Do  you  wish  for  details?  I will  give 
them.  I was  born  in  No.  28,  Rue  de  la  Fontaine,  in  a room 
hung  with  red  damask : my  father  took  me  in  his  arms,  telling 
my  mother  I was  dead  ; wrapped  me  in  a napkin  marked  with  an 
H and  an  N ; and  carried  me  into  a garden,  where  he  buried  me 
alive.” 

A shudder  ran  through  the  assembly  when  they  saw  that  the 
confidence  of  the  prisoner  increased  in  proportion  with  the  terror 
of  M.  de  Villefort. 

“ A man  who  had  sworn  vengeance  against  my  father,  and  had 
long  watched  his  opportunity  to  kill  him,  introduced  himseli 
that  night  into  the  garden  in  which  my  father  buried  me. 
He  was  concealed  in  a thicket ; he  saw  my  father  bury  some- 
thing in  the  ground,  and  stabbed  him  in  the  midst  of  the 
operation  ; then,  thinking  the  deposit  might  contain  some  treasure, 
he  turned  up  the  ground,  and  found  me  still  living.  The  man  car- 
ried me  to  the  Foundling  Hospital,  where  I was  entered  under  the 
number  37.  Three  months  afterwards,  a woman  traveled  from 
Rogliano  to  Paris  to  fetch  me,  and  having  claimed  me  as  her  son, 
carried  me  away.  Thus,  you  see,  though  born  in  Paris,  I was 
brought  up  in  Corsica.” 

There  was  a moment’s  silence,  during  which  one  could  have 
fancied  the  hall  empty,  so  profound  was  the  stillness.  “ I might 
have  lived  happily  amongst  those  good  people,  who  adored  me  ; 
but  my  perverse  disposition  prevailed  over  the  virtues  which  my 
adopted  mother  endeavored  to  instil  into  my  heart.  I increased  in 
wickedness  till  I committed  crime.  One  day  when  I cursed  Provi- 
dence for  making  me  so  wicked,  and  ordaining  me  to  such  a fate, 
my  adopted  father  said  to  me,  4 Do  not  blaspheme,  unhappy 
child!  the  crime  is  your  father’s  not  yours;  who  devoted  you  to 
death,  or  to  a life  of  misery,  in  case,  by  a miracle,  you  should 
escape  his  doom.*  Since  then  I ceased  to  blaspheme,  but  I 
cursed  my  father.  This  is  why  I have  uttered  the  words  for  which 
you  blame  me  ; and  filled  this  whole  audience  with  horror.  If  I 
have  committed  an  additional  crime,  punish  me  ; but  if  you  will 
allow  that  ever  since  the  day  of  my  birth  my  fate  has  been  sad, 
bitter,  and  lamentable,  then  pity  me.” 

“ But  your  mother?  ” asked  the  president. 

“ My  mother  thought  me  dead ; she  is  not  guilty.  I did  not 
even  wish  to  know  her  name,  nor  do  I know  it.”  Just  then  a 
piercing  shriek  ending  in  a sob,  burst  from  the  centre  of  the 
crowd,  who  encircled  the  lady  who  had  before  fainted,  and  who 
now  fell  in  violent  hysterics.  She  was  carried  out  of  the  hall,  and 
in  doing  so,  the  thick  veil  which  concealed  her  face  dropped  off, 
3,nd  Mdme,  Danglars  was  recognized.  Notwithstanding  his  shat' 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  453 

tered  nerves,  the  stunning  sensation  in  his  ears,  and  the  madness 
which  turned  his  brain,  Villefort  rose  as  he  perceived  her. 

“ The  proofs!  the  proofs!”  said  the  president;  “remember 
this  tissue  of  horrors  must  be  supported  by  the  clearest  proofs.” 

“ Look  at  M.  de  Villefort,  and  then  ask  me  for  proofs.” 

Every  one  turned  toward  the  lawyer,  who,  unable  to  bear  the 
universal  gaze  now  riveted  on  him  alone,  advanced,  staggering, 
into  the  midst  of  the  court,  with  his  hair  dishevelled,  and  his  face 
indented  with  the  mark  of  his  nails.  The  whole  assembly  ut- 
tered a long  murmur  of  astonishment. 

“Father!”  said  Benedetto,  “I  am  asked  for  proofs,  do  you 
wish  me  to  give  them  ? ” 

“ No,  no,  it  is  useless ! ” stammered  M.  de  Villefort,  in  a hoarse 
voice  ; “ no,  it  is  useless!  ” 

“ How  useless  ? ” cried  the  president,  “ what  do  you  mean  ? ” 

“ I mean  that  I feel  it  impossible  to  struggle  against  this  deadly 
weight  which  crushes  me.  Gentlemen,  I know  I am  in  the  hands  of 
an  avenging  God  ! We  need  no  proofs  ; everything  relating  to  this 
young  man  is  true.”  A dull,  gloomy  silence,  like  that  which  pre- 
cedes some  awful  phenomenon  of  nature,  pervaded  the  assembly, 
who  shuddered  in  dismay.  “What!  M.  de  Villefort,”  cried  the 
president,  “ do  you  yield  to  an  hallucination  ? What ! are  you  no 
longer  in  possession  of  your  senses?  This  strange,  unexpected, 
terrible  accusation  has  disordered  your  reason.  Come,  recover.” 
The  Public  Prosecutor  dropped  his  head : his  teeth  chattered 
Tike  a man  under  a violent  attack  of  fever,  and  yet  he  was  deadly 
pale. 

“Iam  in  possession  of  ah  my  senses,  sir,”  he  said  ; “ my  body 
alone  suffers,  as  you  may  suppose.  I acknowledge  myself  guilty 
of  all  the  young  man  has  brought  against  me,  and  from  this  hour 
hold  myself  under  the  authority  of  my  successor.” 

And  as  he  spoke  these  words  with  a hoarse,  choking  voice,  he 
staggered  toward  the  door,  mechanically  opened  by  a door- 
keeper. The  whole  assembly  were  dumb  with  astonishment  at 
the  revelation  and  confession  which  had  produced  a catastrophe 
so  different  to  that  which  had  been  expected  during  the  last 
fortnight. 

“The  sitting  is  adjourned,  gentlemen,”  said  the  president; 
“fresh  inquiries  will  be  made,  and  the  case  will  be  tried  next 
session  by  another  magistrate.”  As  for  Andrea,  calm  and  more 
interesting  than  ever,  he  left  the  hall,  escorted  by  gendarmes, 
who  involuntarily  paid  him  some  attention.  “ Well,  what  do 
you  think  of  this,  my  fine  fellow?”  asked  Debray  of  the  usher, 
slipping  a louis  into  his  hand.  “ They  will  find  extenuating  cir- 
cumstances,” he  replied. 


454 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR/STO 


CHAPTER  LXVG 

EXPIATION. 

Notwithstanding  the  density  of  the  crowd,  M.  dc  Villefort 
saw  it  open  before  him.  Thus  Villefort  passed  through  the  mass 
of  spectators  and  officers  of  the  Palais,  and  withdrew.  Having 
staggered  as  far  as  his  carriage,  he  awoke  his  sleeping  coach- 
man by  opening  the  door  himself,  threw  himself  on  the  cushions, 
and  the  carriage  drove  on.  One  thought  filled  his  mind  ; he 
saw  the  workings  of  a Divine  hand  in  all  that  had  happened. 
The  carriage  rolled  rapidly.  Villefort,  while  turning  restlessly  on 
the  cushions,  felt  something  press  against  him.  He  put  out  his 
hand  to  remove  the  object ; it  was  a fan  which  Mdme.  de  Villefort 
had  left  in  the  carriage ; this  fan  awakened  a recollection  which 
darted  through  his  mind  like  lightning.  He  thought  of  his  wife. 

" Oh  ! ” he  exclaimed,  as  though  a red-hot  iron  were  piercing 
his  heart.  During  the  last  hour  his  own  crime  had  alone  been 
presented  to  his  mind  ; now  another  object,  not  less  terrible,  sud* 
denly  presented  itself. 

His  wife  ! 

Before  he  left  home  to  fulfil  a public  duty,  he  had  carried  one 
what  he  esteemed  his  family  charge  : he  called  his  wife  to  him  and 
revealed  that  the  authoress  of  the  poisonings  in  his  household  was 
no  longer  unknown  to  him.  He  uttered  in  his  coldest  tone  his  sen- 
tence of  death  upon  her  and  asked  if  she  had  not  reserved  some 
of  the  poison  to  save  him  from  having  her  despatched  on  the  scaf- 
fold? 

He  had  left  her  crushed  with  the  discovery.  Recovered  from 
the  shock,  might  she  not  even  now  be  preparing  to  carry  out  this 
doom  upon  herself? 

Villefort  again  groaned  with  anguish  and  despair.  “ Ah  * " he 
exclaimed,  “ that  woman  became  criminal  only  from  associating 
with  me ! I carried  the  infec^on  of  crime  with  me,  and  she  has 
caught  it  as  she  would  the  typhus-fever,  the  cholera,  the  plague  ! 
And  yet  I have  punished  her — I have  dared  to  tell  her — / have — 
' Repent  and  die  ! * But  no  ! she  must  not  die,  she  shall  live  and 
follow  me.  We  will  flee  from  Paris,  and  go  far  as  the  earth 
reaches.  I told  her  of  the  scaffold  ; oh,  Heavens!  I forgot  tha* 
it  awaits  me  also!  How  could  I pronounce  that  word?  Yes,  we 
will  fly : I will  confess  all  to  her, — I will  tell  her  daily  that  I also 
have  committed  a crime  ! — Oh  ! what  an  alliance  with  the  tigef 
the  serpent ! worthy  wife  of  such  as  I am ! She*  ntu»t  live 


77/ E COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO. 


45  $ 


that  my  infamy  may  diminish  hers.”  And  Villefort  dashed  opefl 
the  window  in  front  of  the  carriage.  44  Faster  ! faster  ! ” he  cried* 
in  a tone  which  electrified  the  coachman.  The  horses,  impelled 
by  fear,  flew  toward  the  house. 

The  carriage  stopped  at  the«loor  of  the  hotel.  Villefort  leaped 
out  of  the  carriage,  and  saw  his  servants,  surprised  at  his  early  re- 
turn : he  could  read  no  other  expression  on  their  features.  Neither 
of  them  spoke  to  him  ; they  merely  stood  aside  to  let  him  pass  by, 
as  usual,  nothing  more.  As  he  passed  by  M.  Noirtier’s  room,  he 
perceived,  through  the  half-open  door,  two  figures  ; but  he  experi- 
enced no  curiosity  to  know  who  was  visiting  his  father  ; anxiety 
carried  him  on  further. 

44  Come,”  he  said,  as  he  ascended  the  stairs  leading  to  his  wife’s 
room,  “ nothing  is  changed  here.”  He  rushed  toward  the  door  ; 
it  was  bolted;  he  stopped,  shuddering.  44  Heloise ! ” he  cried. 
He  fancied  he  heard  the  sound  of  a piece  of  furniture  being  re- 
moved. 44  Heloise  ! ” he  repeated. 

44  Who  is  there?”  answered  the  voice  of  her  he  sought.  He 
thought  that  voice  more  feeble  than  usual. 

44  Open  the  door!  ” cried  Villefort;  44  open,  it  is  I.”  But  not- 
withstanding this  request,  notwithstanding  the  tone  of  anguish  in 
which  it  was  uttered,  the  door  remained  closed.  Villefort  burst  it 
open  with  a violent  blow.  At  the  entrance  of  the  room  which  led 
to  her  boudoir,  Madame  de  Villefort  was  standing  erect,  pale,  her 
features  contracted,  and  her  eyes  glaring  horribly.  44  Heloise  ! 
Heloise  ! ” he  said,  44 what  is  the  matter?  Speak  ! ” The  young 
woman  extended  her  stiff  white  hand  toward  him.  44  It  is  done, 
sir!”  she  said,  with  a rattling  which  seemed  to  tear  her  throat. 
44  What  more  do  you  want?”  and  she  fell  on  the  floor.  Villefort 
ran  to  her  and  seized  her  hand,  which  convulsively  clasped  a crys- 
tal bottle  with  a golden  stopper.  Mdme.  de  Villefort  was  dead. 
Villefort,  maddened  with  horor,  stepped  back  to  the  threshold  of 
the  door,  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  corpse  : 44  My  son  ” he  exclaimed 

suddenly,  44  where  is  my  son  ? — Edward,  Edward  ! ” The  corpse 
was  stretched  across  the  doorway  leading  to  the  room  in  which 
Edward  must  be  ; those  glaring  eyes  seemed  to  watch  over  the 
threshold,  and  the  lips  expressed  a terrible  and  mysterious  irony. 
Through  the  open  door  a portion  of  the  boudoir  was  visible,  com 
taining  an  upright  piano,  and  a blue  satin  couch.  Villefort  stepped 
forward  two  or  three  paces,  and  beheld  his  child  lying — no 
doubt  asleep  on  the  sofa.  The  unhappy  man  uttered  an  exclama- 
tion of  joy  ; a ray  of  light  seemed  to  penetrate  the  abyss  of  de- 
spair and  darkness.  He  had  only  to  step  over  the  corpse,  enter  the 
boudoir,  take  the  child  in  his  arms,  and  flee,  far  away 

He  took  the  child  in  his  arms,  pressed  him,  shook  him,  called 
him,  but  the  child  replied  not.  He  was  dead.  A folded  paper 
fell  from  Edward’s  breast.  Villefort,  thunderstruck,  fell  upon  his 
knees  ; the  child  dropped  from  his  arms,  and  rolled  on  the  floor 


45« 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


by  the  side  of  its  mother.  He  picked  up  the  paper,  and,  recog« 
nixing  his  wife’s  writing,  ran  his  eyes  rapidly  over  its  contents: 
they  were  as  follows : 

" You  know  that  I was  a good  mother,  since  it  was  for  my  son’s 
sake  I became  criminal.  A good  mother  cannot  depart  without 
her  son.” 

Villefort  could  not  believe  his  eyes,— -he  could  not  believe  his 
reason  ; he  dragged  himself  toward  the  child’s  corpse,  and  ex- 
amined it  as  a lioness  contemplates  its  dead  cub.  Then  a pierc- 
ing cry  escaped  from  his  breast,  and  he  cried,  " Still  the  hand  of 
God.”  The  two  victims  alarmed  him;  he  could  not  bear  the 
solitude  only  shared  by  two  corpses.  He  descended  the  little 
stairs  with  which  we  are  acquainted,  and  entered  Noirtier’s  room. 
The  old  man  appeared  to  be  listening  attentively  and  as  affec- 
tionately as  his  infirmities  would  allow  to  the  Abbe  Busoni,  who 
looked  cold  and  calm,  as  usual.  Villefort,  perceiving  the  abb£, 
passed  his  hand  across  his  brow.  He  recollected  the  call  he  had 
made  upon  him  after  the  dinner  at  Auteuil,  and  then  the  visit  the 
abb£  had  himself  paid  to  his  house  on  the  day  of  Valentine’s 
death.  11  You  here,  sir!  ” he  exclaimed  ; 14  do  you,  then,  never 
appear  but  to  act  as  an  escort  to  death  ? ” 

Busoni  turned  round,  and  perceiving  the  excitement  depicted  on 
the  magistrate’s  face,  the  savage  lustre  of  his  eyes,  he  understood 
that  the  scene  at  the  assizes  had  been  accomplished  ; but  beyond 
this  he  was  ignorant.  " I came  to  pray  over  the  body  of  your 
daughter.” 

And,  now,  why  are  you  here?  ” 

" I come  to  tell  you  that  you  have  sufficiently  repaid  your  debt, 
and  that  from  this  moment  I will  pray  to  God  to  forgive  you  as 
I do.” 

"Good  Heavens!”  exclaimed  Villefort,  stepping  back  fear- 
fully, " surely  that  is  not  the  voice  of  the  Abbe  Busoni ! ” 

" No  ! ” the  abbe  threw  off  his  false  tonsure,  shook  his  head, 
and  his  hair,  no  longer  confined,  fell  in  black  masses  around  his 
manly  face, 

"It  is  the  face  of  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo ! ” exclaimed  the 
lawyer,  with  a haggard  expression. 

" You  are  not  exactly  right,  sir ; you  must  go  farther  back.” 

" That  voice  ! that  voice  ! — where  did  I first  hear  it  ? ” 

" You  heard  it  for  the  first  time  at  Marseilles,  twenty -three  years 
ago,  the  day  of  your  marriage  with  Mdlle.  de  Saint-Meran.  Refer 
to  your  papers.” 

" You  are  not  Busoni  ?— you  are  not  Monte-Cristo  ? Oh, 
Heavens  ! you  are,  then,  some  concealed,  implacable,  and  mortal 
enemy ! I must  have  wronged  you  in  some  way  at  Marseilles. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR/STO.  457 

Oh ! woe  to  me  t what  have  I done  to  you  ? Tell  me,  then ! 
Speak ! ” 

‘<You  condemned  me  to  a horrible,  tedious  death, — you  killed 
my  father — you  deprived  me  of  liberty,  of  love,  and  happiness.' ‘ 

“ Who  are  you,  then  ? Who  are  you  ? ” 

••I  am  the  ghost  of  a wretch  you  buried  in  the  dungeons  of  Cas* 
tie  If.  The  form  of  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  was  given  to  that 
Spectre  when  he  at  length  issued  from  his  tomb,  enriched  with  gold 
and  diamonds,  to  reconduct  him  to  you  ! ” 

“Ah!  I recognize  you!”  exclaimed  the  Attorney  General, 
••  you  are ” 

“ I am  Edmond  Dantes  ? M 

“ You  are  Edmond  Dantes ! M cried  Villefort,  seizing  the  count 
fey  the  wrist,  “ then  come  here  ! ” And  he  dragged  Monte-Cristo 
up  the  stairs  ; who,  ignorant  of  what  had  happened,  followed  him 
in  astonishment,  presaging  some  new  catastrophe.  “ Hold,  Ed- 
mond Dantes!  ” he  said,  pointing  to  the  bodies  of  his  wife  and 
child.  “See!  are  you  well  avenged?”  Monte-Cristo  became 
pale  at  this  horrible  sight ; he  felt  he  had  passed  beyond  the 
bounds  of  vengeance,  and  that  he  could  no  longer  say,  “God  is 
for  and  with  me.”  “My  child  ! ” cried  Villefort,  then,  uttering 
a burst  of  laughter,  he  rushed  down  the  stairs. 

The  servant,  instead  of  answering,  pointed  to  the  garden. 
Monte-Cristo  ran  after,  and,  in  the  garden,  beheld  Villefort,  en- 
circled by  his  servants,  with  a spade  in  his  hand,  and  digging  the 
earth  with  fury.  “ It  is  not  here  ! ” he  cried.  “ Oh,  I will  find 
it!  ” he  cried  ; “ you  may  pretend  he  is  not  here,  but  I will  find 
him,  though  I dig  for  ever ! ” 

Monte-Cristo  drew  back  in  horror.  “Oh!  99  he  said,  “he  is 
mad  ! ” And  as  though  he  feared  that  the  walls  of  the  accursed 
house  would  crumble  around  him,  he  rushed  into  the  street,  for 
the  first  time  doubting  whether  he  had  the  right  to  do  as  he  had 
done.  "Oh!  enough  of  this, — enough  of  this,”  he  cried,  “letme 
save  the  last.”  On  entering  his  house,  he  met  Morrel,  who  wan- 
dered about  like  a ghost.  “ Prepare  yourselfp  Maximilian,”  he 
said,  with  a smile  ; “we  leave  Paris  to-morrow.” 

“ Have  you  nothing  more  to  do  here?  ” asked  Morrel. 

“ No,”  replied  Monte-Cristo  ; “ God  grant  I may  not  have  done 
too  much  already.” 

The  next  day  they  indeed  left,  accompanied  alone  by  Baptistin. 
Hayd&e  had  taken  away  Ali,  and  Bertuccio  remained  with  Noirtiesr. 


CHAPTER  LXVI. 

MARSEILLES  AGAIN. 

The  journey  of  Maximilian  and  the  Count  was  performed  with 
that  marvellous  rapidity  which  the  unlimited  power  of  the  count 


458  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

ever  commanded,  towns  fled  from  them  like  shadows  on  then*  path* 
and  trees  shaken  by  the  first  winds  of  autumn  seemed  like  giants 
madly  rushing  on  to  meet  them,  and  retreating  as  rapidly  when 
once  reached.  Ere  long  Marseilles  presented  herself  to  view. 
Powerful  memories  were  stirred  within  them  by  the  sight.  They 
stopped  on  the  Cannebiere.  A vessel  was  setting  sail  for  Algiers, 
on  board  of  which  the  bustle  usually  attending  departure  prevailed. 
The  passengers  and  their  relations  crowded  on  the  deck,  friends 
taking  a tender,  but  sorrowful  leave  of  each  other,  some  weeping, 
others  noisy  in  their  grief,  formed  a spectacle,  exciting  even  to 
those  who  witnessed  similar  ones  daily,  but  which  had  not  the 
power  to  disturb  the  current  of  thought  that  had  taken  possession 
of  the  mind  of  Maximilian  from  the  moment  he  had  set  foot  on 
the  broad  pavement  of  the  quay. 

41  Here,”  said  he,  leaning  heavily  on  the  arm  of  Monte-Cristo, 
— “ here  is  the  spot  where  my  father  stopped,  when  the  Pharaoh 
entered  the  port ; it  was  here  that  the  good  old  man  whom  you 
saved  from  death  and  dishonor,  threw  himself  into  my  2,  ms.  I 
yet  feel  his  warm  tears  on  my  face,  and  his  were  not  the  only  tear* 
shed,  for  many  who  witnessed  our  meeting  wept  also.”  Monte- 
Cristo  gently  smiled  and  said, — 44  I was  there  ; ” at  the  same  time 
pointing  to  the  corner  of  a street.  As  he  spoke,  and  in  the  very 
direction  he  indicated,  a groan,  expressive  of  bitter  grief,  was 
heard  ; and  a woman  was  seen  waving  her  hand  to  a passenger  on 
board  the  vessel  about  to  sail.  Monte-Cristo  looked  at  her  with 
an  emotion  that  must  have  been  remarked  by  Morrel  had  not  his 
eyes  been  fixed  on  the  vessel. 

4 4 Oh  ! heavens!  ” exclaimed  Morrel,  44 1 do  not  deceive  mysel! 
— that  young  man  who  is  waving  his  hat,  that  youth  in  the  uniform 
of  a lieutenant,  is  Albert  de  Morcerf ! ” 

44  Yes,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  44  I recognized  him.” 44  How  so? 

—you  were  looking  the  other  way.”  The  count  smiled,  as  he  was 
in  the  habit  of  doing  when  he  did  not  want  to  make  any  reply, 
and  he  again  turned  his  looks  toward  the  veiled  female,  who  soon 
disappeared  at  the  corner  of  the  street.  Turning  to  his  friend,— 
S4  Dear  Maximilian,”  said  the  count,  44  have  you  nothing  to  do  m 

this  land?  ” 44  I have  to  weep  over  the  grave  of  my  father,” 

replied  Morrel,  in  a broken  voice. 

44  Well,  then,  go, — wait  for  me  there,  and  I will  soon  join  you.” 

44  You  leave  me,  then  ? ” 44  Yes  ; I also  have  a pious  visit  to 

pay.” 

In  the  Median  Alley  house  given  to  his  old  love,  Monte-Cristo 
found  her  seated  under  an  arbor  of  Virginian  creeper,  with  her 
head  bowed,  weeping  bitterly.  She  had  raised  her  veil,  and  with 
her  face  hidden  by  her  hands,  was  giving  free  scope  to  those 
sighs  and  tears  which  had  been  so  long  restrained  by  the  presence 
of  her  son.  Monte-Cristo  advanced  a few  paces,  which  were 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  459 

heard  on  the  gravel.  Mercedes  raised  her  head,  and  uttered  a 
cry  of  terror  on  beholding  a man  before  her. 

-Madame,”  said  the  count,  “it  is  no  longer  in  my  power  to  re- 
store you  to  happiness,  but  I offer  you  consolation  ; will  you  deign 

to  accept  it  as  coming  from  a friend?” “ I am,  indeed,  most 

wretched,”  replied  Mercedes.  “ Alone  in  the  world,  I had  but  my 
son,  and  he  has  left  me!” 

“ He  possesses  a noble  heart,  madame,”  replied  the  count,  “ and 
he  has  acted  rightly.  Leave  him  to  build  up  the  future  for  you, 
and  I venture  to  say  you  will  confide  it  to  safe  hands.” 

“Oh!”  replied  the  wretched  woman,  mournfully  shaking  her 
head,  “the  prosperity  of  which  you  speak,  and  which,  from 
the  bottom  of  my  heart,  I pray  God  in  His  mercy  to  grant  him,  I 
can  never  enjoy.  The  bitter  cup  of  adversity  has  been  drained  by 
me  to  the  very  dregs,  and  I feel  that  the  grave  is  not  far  distant. 
You  have  acted  kindly,  count,  in  bringing  me  back  to  the  place 
where  I have  enjoyed  so  much  bliss.  You  have  spared  me,  yet 
of  all  those  who  have  fallen  under  your  vengeance  I was  the  most 
guilty.  They  were  influenced  by  hatred,  by  avarice,  and  by  self- 
love  ; but  I was  base,  and,  for  want  of  courage,  acted  against  my 
judgment.  Nay,  do  not  press  my  hand,  Edmond  ; you  are  think- 
ing of  some  kind  expression,  I am  sure,  to  console  me,  but  do  not 
bestow  it  on  me,  for  I am  no  longer  worthy  of  kindness.  See  ” 
(and  she  exposed  her  face  completely  to  view) — “see,  misfortune 
has  silvered  my  hair,  my  eyes  have  shed  so  many  tears  that  they 
are  encircled  by  a rim  of  purple,  and  my  brow  is  wrinkled.  You, 
Edmond,  on  the  contrary,  you  are  still  young,  handsome  digni* 
fled  ; it  is  because  you  have  never  doubted  the  mercy  of  God,  and 
He  has  supported  and  strengthened  you  in  all  your  trials.” 

As  Mercedes  spoke,  the  tears  chased  each  other  down  her  wan 
cheeks  ; the  unhappy  woman’s  heart  was  breaking,  as  memory 
recalled  the  changeful  events  of  her  life.  Monte-Cristo,  however, 
took  her  hand  and  imprinted  a kiss  on  it ; but  she  herself  felt  that 
it  was  with  no  greater  warmth  than  he  would  have  respectfully 
bestowed  one  on  the  hand  of  some  marble  statue  of  a saint. 

“ No,  Mercedes,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  “ no  ; you  judge  yourself 
with  too  much  severity.  You  are  a noble-minded  woman,  and  it 
was  your  grief  that  disarmed  me.  Still,  I was  but  an  agent,  led 
on  by  an  invisible  and  offended  Deity,  who  chose  not  to  withhold 
the  fatal  blow  that  I was  destined  to  hurl.  I take  that  God  to  wit- 
ness, at  whose  feet  I have  prostrated  myself  daily  for  the  last  ten 
years,  that  I would  have  sacrificed  my  life  to  you,  and,  with  my 
life,  the  projects  that  were  indissolubly  linked  with  it.  But— and  l 
say  it  with  some  pride,  Mercedes— God  required  me,  and  I lived. 
Examine  the  past  and  the  present,  and  endeavor  to  dive  into 
futurity,  and  then  say  whether  I am  not  a Divine  instrument. 
The  most  dreadful  misfortunes,  the  most  frightful  sufferings,  the 
zhandonment  of  all  those  who  loved  me,  the  persecution  of  those 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


v,>tJ 

who  did  not  know  me,  formed  the  trials  of  my  youth  ; when  sud- 
denly, from  captivity,  solitude,  misery,  I was  restored  to  light  and 
liberty,  and  became  the  possessor  of  a fortune  so  brilliant,  so  un- 
bounded, so  unheard-of,  that  I must  have  been  blind  not  to  be 
conscious  that  God  had  endowed  me  with  it  to  work  out  His  own 
great  designs.  From  that  time  I viewed  this  fortune  as  confided 
to  me  for  a particular  purpose.  Not  a thought  was  given  to  a life 
which  you  once,  Mercedes,  had  the  power  to  render  blissful ; 
not  one  hour  of  peaceful  calm  was  mine,  but  I felt  myself  driven 
on  like  an  exterminating  angel.  From  good-natured,  confiding, 
and  forgiving,  I became  revengeful,  cunning,  and  wicked,  or 
rather,  immovable  as  fate.  Then  I launched  out  into  the  path 
that  was  opened  to  me  : I overcame  every  obstacle,  and  reached 
the  goal ; but  woe  to  those  who  met  me  in  my  career ! ” 

44  Enough!  ” said  Mercedes,  44  enough,  Edmond  ! ” 44  Before 

I leave  you,  Mercedes,  have  you  no  request  to  make  ? ” said  the 
count. 

41 1 desire  but  one  thing  in  this  world,  Edmond — the  happiness 
of  my  son.” 

44  But  have  you  no  request  to  make  for  yourself,  Merc6d£s?  ” 

“For  myself  I want  nothing.  I live,  as  it  were,  between  two 
graves.  The  one  that  of  Edmond  Dantes,  lost  to  me  long,  long 
since.  He  had  my  love  ! That  word  ill  becomes  my  faded  lip 
now,  but  it  is  a memory  dear  to  my  heart,  and  one  that  I would 
not  lose  for  all  that  the  world  contains.  The  other  grave  is  that  of 
the  man  who  met  his  death  from  the  hand  of  Edmond  Dant&s.  I 
approve  of  the  deed,  but  I must  pray  for  the  dead.'* 

“ Yes,  your  son  shall  be  happy,  Mercedes,*’  repeated  the  count. 

“ Then  I shall  enjoy  as  much  happiness  as  this  world  can  possh 
bly  confer.” 

44  But  what  are  your  intentions  ? ” 

44  To  say  that  I shal  llive  here,  like  the  Mercedes  of  other  times, 
gaining  my  bread  by  labor,  would  not  be  true,  r.or  would  you  be- 
lieve me.  I have  no  longer  the  strength  to  do  anything  but  to 
spend  my  days  in  prayer.  However,  I shall  have  no  occasion  to 
work,  for  the  little  sum  of  money  buried  by  you,  and  which  I 
found  in  the  place  you  mentioned,  will  be  sufficient  to  maintain  me. 
Rumor  will  probably  be  busy  respecting  me,  my  occupations,  my 
manner  of  living — that  will  signify  but  little.”  Monte-Cristo 
dropped  his  head  and  shrank  from  the  vehemence  of  her  grief. 

44  Will  you  not  even  say  you  would  see  me  again  ? ” he  asked. 

44  Nay,  we  shall  meet  again!”  said  she,  pointing  solemnly  to 
heaven,  44 1 say  this  that  you  may  know  that  I hope.” 

He  departed,  sad  because  he  expected  never  to  see  her  more. 

Burying  his  head  in  his  cloak,  he  murmured  the  name  of  a 
woman.  The  victory  was  complete  ; he  had  overcome  his  doubts. 
The  name  he  pronounced,  in  a voice  of  tenderness,  amounting  al« 
<nost  to  love,  was  Haydee’s. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  461 


On  landing,  the  count  turned  towards  the  cemetery,  where  he 
it  it  sure  of  finding  Morrel.  He,  too,  ten  years  ago,  had  piously 
sought  out  a tomb,  and  sought  it  vainly.  He,  who  returned  to 
France  with  millions,  had  been  unable  to  find  the  grave  of  his 
father,  who  had  perished  from  hunger.  Morrel  had,  indeed, 
placed  a cross  over  the  spot,  but  it  had  fallen  down,  and  the  grave- 
digger had  burnt  it,  as  he  did  all  the  old  wood  in  the  churchyard. 
The  worthy  merchant  had  been  more  fortunate.  Dying  in  the 
arms  of  his  children,  he  had  been  by  them  laid  by  the  side  of  his 
wife,  who  had  preceded  him  in  eternity  by  two  years.  Two  large 
slabs  of  marble,  on  which  were  inscribed  their  names,  were  placed 
on  either  side  of  a little  enclosure,  railed  in,  and  shaded  by  four 
cypress-trees.  Morrel  was  leaning  against  one  of  these,  mechani- 
cally fixing  his  eyes  on  the  graves.  His  grief  was  so  profound,  he 
was  nearly  unconscious.  “Maximilian,”  said  the  count,  “you 
should  not  look  on  the  graves,  but  there  ;”  and  he  pointed  up- 
wards. 

• • The  dead  are  everywhere,”  said  Morrel ; “ did  you  not  your- 
self tell  me  so  as  we  left  Paris  ? have  pity  upon  me.  I am  so  un- 
happy.” 

“ I have  known  a man  much  more  unfortunate  than  you,  Mor- 
rel.” 

“ Impossible ! ” 

" Alas  ! ” said  Monte-Cristo,  “ it  is  the  infirmity  of  our  nature 
always  to  believe  ourselves  much  more  unhappy  than  those  who 
groan  by  our  sides  ! ” 

“ What  can  be  more  wretched  than  the  man  who  has  lost  all  he 
loved  and  desired  in  the  world  ? ” 

“Listen,  Morrel,  and  pay  attention  to  what  I am  about  to  tell 
you,  I knew  a man  who  like  you  had  fixed  all  his  hopes  of  happi- 
ness upon  a woman.  He  was  young,  he  had  an  old  father  whom 
he  loved,  a betrothed  bride  whom  he  adored.  He  was  about  to 
marry  her,  when  one  of  those  caprices  of  fate, — which  would 
almost  make  us  doubt  the  goodness  of  Providence,  if  that  Provi- 
dence did  not  afterwards  reveal  itself  by  proving  that  all  is  but  a 
means  of  conducting  to  an  end, — one  of  those  caprices  deprived 
him  of  his  mistress,  of  the  future  of  which  he  had  dreamed  (for  in 
his  blindness  he  forgot  he  could  only  read  the  present),  and 
plunged  him  into  a dungeo*.” 

“ Ah  ! ” said  Morrel,  “ one  quits  a dungeon  in  a week,  a month, 
or  a year.” 

“ He  remained  there  fourteen  years,  Morrel,”  said  the  count, 
placing  his  hand  on  the  young  man’s  shoulder.  Maximilian  shud- 
dered. 

'*  During  that  time  he  had  many  moments  of  despair.  He  also, 
Morrel,  like  you,  considered  himself  the  unhappiest  of  men.” 

“ Well  ? ” asked  Morrel. “ Well ! at  the  height  of  his  despair 

God  assisted  him  through  human  means.  At  first,  perhaps,  he 


462 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


did  not  recognize  the  infinite  mercy  of  the  Lord,  but  at  last  he 
took  patience  and  waited.  One  day  he  miraculously  left  the 
prison,  transformed,  rich,  powerful.  His  first  cry  was  for  his 
father  ; but  that  father  was  dead.” 

“ My  father,  too,  is  dead,”  said  Morrel. 

“ Yes  ; but  your  father  died  in  your  arms,  happy,  respected, 
rich,  and  full  of  years  ; his  father  died  poor,  despairing,  almost 
doubtful  of  Providence  ; and  when  his  son  sought  his  grave  ten 
years  afterwards,  his  tomb  had  disappeared,  and  no  one  could  say, 
‘There  sleeps  the  father  you  so  well  loved/  ” 

“ Oh  ! ” exclaimed  Morrel. 

“ He  was,  therefore,  a more  unhappy  son  than  you,  Morrel,  for 
he  could  not  even  find  his  father’s  grave  ! ” 

“ But  then  he  had  the  woman  he  loved  still  remaining?  M 

“ You  are  deceived,  Morrel,  that  woman ” 

“ She  was  dead  ? ” 

“ Worse  than  that:  she  was  faithless,  and  had  married  one  of 
the  persecutors  of  her  betrothed.  You  see,  then,  Morrel,  that  he 
r'.  s a more  unhappy  lover  than  you.” 

‘And  has  he  found  consolation  ? ” 

“ He  has  found  calmness,  at  least.” 

“ And  does  he  ever  expect  to  be  happy  ?* 

“ He  hopes  so,  Maximilian.”  The  young  man’s  head  fell  on  his 
breast. 

“You  have  my  promise,”  he  said,  after  a minute’s  pause,  ex- 
tending his  hand  to  Monte-Cristo.  “ Only  remember ” 

“ On  the  5th  of  October,  Morrel,  I shall  expect  you  at  the 
island  of  Monte-Cristo.  On  the  4th  a yacht  will  wait  for  you  in 
the  port  of  Bastia,  called  the  Eurus . You  will  give  your  name  to 
the  captain,  who  will  bring  you  to  me.  It  is  understood — is  it 
not  ? ” 

“ But,  count,  do  you  remember  that  the  5th  of  October — 

“ Child ! ” replied  the  count,  “ not  to  know  the  value  of  a man’s 
word ! I have  told  you  twenty  times  that  if  you  wish  to  die  on 

that  day,  I will  assist  you.  Morrel,  farewell ! ” “ Do  you  leave 

me  ? ” 

Morrel  accompanied  the  count  to  the  harbor.  The  white  steam 
was  ascending  like  a plume  of  feathers  from  the  black  chimney. 
The  steamer  soon  disappeared,  and  in  an  hour  afterward,  was 
scarcely  distinguishable  in  the  horizon  amid  the  fog. 


CHAPTER  LXVII. 

PEPPINO. 

* At  the  same  time  that  the  steamer  disappeared  behind  Cape 
Morgiou,  a man,  traveling  post  on  the  road  from  Florence  to 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


4$3 


Rome,  had  just  passed  the  little  town  of  Aquapendente.  He 
was  traveling  fast  enough  to  make  a great  deal  of  ground  without 
becoming  altogether  suspicious.  This  man,  dressed  in  an  over- 
coat, a little  the  worse  for  the  journey,  but  which  exhibited  the 
riband  of  the  Legion  d’Honneur  still  fresh  and  brilliant,  a decor- 
ation which  also  ornamented  the  under  coat,  might  be  recognized, 
not  only  by  these  signs,  but  also  from  the  accent  with  which  he 
spoke  to  the  postilion,  to  be  a Frenchman. 

The  carriage  entered  by  the  Porto  del  Popolo,  turned  to  the 
left,  and  stopped  at  the  Hotel  d’Espagne.  Pastrini,  our  old  ac- 
quaintance, received  the  traveler  at  the  door,  hat  in  hand.  The 
traveler  alighted,  ordered  a good  dinner,  and  inquired  the  address 
of  the  house  of  Thomson  and  French,  which  was  immediately 
given  to  him,  as  it  was  one  of  the  most  celebrated  in  Rome. 

The  Frenchman  came  back  to  the  hotel  radiant,  and  went  to 
sleep,  with  his  wallet  under  his  pillow. 

The  next  morning  Danglars,  for  it  was  the  banker,  awoke  late, 
though  he  went  to  bed  so  early  ; he  had  not  slept  well  for  five  or 
six  nights,  even  if  he  had  slept  at  all.  He  breakfasted  heartily  ; and 
caring  little,  as  he  said,  for  the  beauties  of  the  Eternal  City, 
ordered  post-horses  at  noon.  But  Danglars  had  not  reckoned 
upon  the  formalities  of  the  police  and  the  idleness  of  the  posting- 
master.  The  horses  only  arrived  at  two  o’clock,  and  the  cicerone 
did  not  bring  the  passport  till  three. 

“ Which  road?  ” asked  the  postilion  in  Italian.  “The  Ancona 
road,”  replied  the  baron.  Pastrini  interpreted  the  question  and 
answer,  and  the  horses  galloped  off.  Danglars  intended  traveling 
to  Venice,  where  he  would  receive  one  part  of  his  fortune,  and 
then  proceeding  to  Vienna,  where  he  would  find  the  rest,  he 
meant  to  take  up  his  residence  in  the  latter  town,  which  he  had 
Oeen  told  was  a city  of  pleasure. 

He  had  scarcely  advanced  three  leagues  out  of  Rome  when 
daylight  began  to  disappear.  Danglars  had  not  intended  starting 
so  late,  or  he  would  have  remained ; he  put  his  head  out  and 
asked  the  postilion  how  long  it  would  be  before  they  reached  the 
next  town.  “ Non  capisco,"  was  the  reply.  Danglars  bent  his 
head,  which  he  meant  to  imply,  “Very  well.”  The  carriage 
again  moved  on.  “I  will  stop  at  the  first  posting-house,”  said 
Danglars  to  himself. 

He  still  felt  the  same  self-satisfaction  which  he  had  experienced 
the  previous  evening,  and  which  had  procured  him  so  good  a 
night’s  rest.  He  was  luxuriously  stretched  in  a good  English 
coach,  with  double  springs ; he  was  drawn  by  four  good  horses, 
at  full  gallop  ; he  knew  the  relay  to  be  at  a distance  of  seven 
leagues.  What  subject  of  meditation  could  present  itself  to  the 
banker,  so  fortunately  become  bankrupt  ? 

Danglars  thought  for  ten  minutes  upon  his  wife  in  Paris ; an- 
other ten  minutes  upon  his  daughter  traveling  about  with  Mdllt« 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


d’Armilly  ; the  same  period  was  given  to  his  creditors,  and  the 
manner  in  which  he  intended  spending  their  money  ; and  then, 
having  no  subject  left  for  contemplation,  he  shut  his  eyes,  and 
fell  asleep. 

The  carriage  stopped.  Danglars  fancied  they  had  reached  the 
long-desired  point ; he  opened  his  eyes,  looked  through  the  win- 
dow, expecting  to  find  himself  in  the  midst  of  some  town,  or  at 
least  village  ; but  he  saw  nothing  but  a kind  or  ruin,  where  three 
or  four  men  went  and  came  like  shadows.  Danglars  waited  for  a 
moment,  expecting  the  postilion  to  come  and  demand  payment, 
having  finished  his  stage.  He  intended  taking  advantage  of  the 
opportunity  to  make  fresh  inquiries  of  the  new  conductor  ; but  the 
lorses  were  unharnessed,  and  others  put  in  their  places,  without 
any  one  claiming  money  from  the  traveler.  Danglars,  astonished, 
opened  the  door  ; but  a strong  hand  pushed  him  back,  and  the 
carriage  rolled  on.  The  baron  was  completely  roused.  " Eh  ! ” 
he  said  to  the  positilion,  " eh,  tnio  caro  f " 

This  was  another  little  piece  of  Italian  the  baron  had  learnt  from 
hearing  his  daughter  sing  Italian  duets  with  Cavalcanti.  But  mid 
caro  replied  not.  Danglars  then  opened  the  window. 

" Come,  my  friend,”  he  said,  thrusting  his  hand  through  the 
opening,  44  where  are  we  going?” 41  Dentro  la  testa!"  an- 

swered a solemn  and  imperious  voice,  accompanied  by  a menacing 
gesture.  Danglars  thought  dentro  la  testa  meant  “ Put  in  your 
head!  ” Danglars  observed  a man  in  a cloak  galloping  at  the 
right  hand  of  the  carriage. 

'•Some  patrol!  ” he  exclaimed.  "Can  I have  been  signalled 
by  the  French  telegraphs  to  the  pontifical  authorities?  ” He  re- 
solved to  end  his  anxiety.  "Where  are  you  leading  me?”  he 
asked.  " Dentro  la  testa"  replied  the  same  Voice,  with  the  same 
menacing  accent. 

Danglars  turned  to  the  left ; another  man  on  horseback  was  gal- 
loping on  that  side.  " Decidedly  !”  said  Danglars,  with  the 
perspiration  on  his  forehead,  " I am  arrested.”  And  he  threw 
himself  back  not  this  time  to  sleep,  but  to  think.  Directly  after* 
wards  the  moon  rose.  He  then  saw  a dark  mass,  against  which 
it  seemed  the  carriage  must  dash  ; but  it  turned  round,  leaving 
behind  it  the  mass,  which  was  no  other  than  one  of  the  ramparts 
encircling  Rome. 

" Oh ! oh  ! ” cried  Danglars,  " we  are  not  returning  to  Rome  ; 
then  it  is  not  justice  which  is  pursuing  me  ! Gracious  heavens  ! 
another  idea  presents  itself ; what  if  they  should  be ” 

His  hair  stood  on  end.  He  remembered  those  interesting 
stories,  so  little  believed  in  Paris,  respecting  Roman  bandits ; he 
remembered  the  adventures  that  Morcerf  had  related  when  it  was 
intended  he  should  marry  Mdlle.  Eugenie.  " They  are  robbers, 
perhaps  ! ” he  muttered.  Just  then  the  carriage  rolled  on  some- 
thing harder  than  the  gravelled  road.  Danglers  hazarded  a look 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO.  465 

on  both  sides  of  the  road,  and  perceived  monuments  of  a singula* 
form  ; and  his  mind  now  recalled  all  the  details  Morc.erf  had  re* 
lated  and  comparing  them  with  his  own  situation,  he  felt  sure  he 
must  he  on  the  Appian  Way.  On  the  left,  in  a sort  of  valley,  he 
perceived  a circular  excavation.  It  was  Caracalla’s  circle.  On  a 
word  from  the  man  who  rode  at  the  side  of  the  carriage,  it  stopped. 
At  the  same  time  the  door  was  opened.  41  Scendi!  ” exclaimed  a 
commanding  voice.  Danglars  instantly  descended  ; though  he 
did  not  yet  speak  Italian,  he  understood  it  very  well.  More 
dead  than  alive,  he  looked  around  him.  Four  men  surrounded 
him,  besides  the  postilion. 

Pushing  Danglars  whenever  he  happened  to  stop,  they  arrived 
by  a gentle  declivity  at  the  centre  of  a cross-road  of  sinister  ap- 
pearance. Indeed,  the  walls,  hollowed  out  in  sepulchres,  placed 
one  above  the  other,  seemed,  in  contrast  with  the  white  stones, 
to  open  their  large  dark  eyes,  like  those  which  we  see  on  the  faces 
of  the  dead.  A sentinel  slapped  his  rifle-butt  with  his  left  hand. 
" Who  goes  there  ? ” he  cried. 

“ Peppino  ! but  where  is  the  captain  ? ” 

“ There  ! ” said  the  sentinel,  poining  over  his  shoulder  to  a sort 
of  large  hall,  hollowed  out  of  the  rock,  the  lights  from  which 
shone  into  the  passage  through  the  large  arched  openings.  Fine 
spoil!  captain,  fine  spoil!”  said  Peppino,  in  Italian,  and  taking 
Danglars  by  the  collar  of  his  coat,  he  dragged  him  to  an  opening 
resembling  a door,  through  which  they  entered  the  hall,  of  which 
the  captain  appeared  to  have  made  his  dwelling-place. 

44  Is  this  the  man?”  asked  the  captain,  who  was  attentively 
reading  Plutarch’s  44  Life  of  Alexander.” 

44  Himself,  captain — himself.” 

44  Very  well,  show  him  to  me.”  At  this  rather  impertinent 
order,  Peppino  raised  his  torch  to  Danglars’  face,  who  hastily 
withdrew,  that  he  might  not  have  his  eyelashes  burnt.  His 
agitated  features  presented  the  appearance  of  pale  and  hideous 
terror.  44The  man  is  tired,”  said  the  captain,  44  conduct  him  to 
his  bed.” 

44  Oh ! ” murmured  Danglars,  44  that  bed  is  probably  one  of  the 
coffins  hollowed  in  the  wall,  and  the  sleep  I shall  enjoy  will  be 
death  from  one  of  the  poniards  I see  glistening  in  the  shade.” 

From  the  depths  of  the  hall  were  now  seen  to  rise  from  their 
beds  of  dried  leaves  or  cow  hide  the  companions  of  the  man  who 
had  been  found  by  Albert  de  Morcerf  reading  44  Caesar’s  Com- 
mentaries,” and  by  Danglars  studying  the  44  Life  of  Alexander.” 
The  banker  uttered  a groan  and  followed  his  guide  ; he  neither 
supplicated  nor  exclaimed.  He  no  longer  possessed  strength, 
will,  power,  or  feeling  ; he  followed  where  they  led  him.  At 
length,  he  found  himself  at  the  foot  of  a staircase,  and  he  mechani- 
cally lifted  his  foot  five  or  six  times.  Then  a low  door  was 
opened  before  him,  and  bending  his  head  to  avoid  striking  his 

30 


466  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


forehead,  he  entered  a small  room  cut  out  of  the  rock.  The  cell  was 
clean,  though  naked ; and  dry,  though  situated  at  a distance 
under  the  earth.  Danglars,  on  beholding  it,  brightened,  fancy- 
ing it  a type  of  safety.  “Oh,  God  be  praised  ! ” he  said  ; “ it  is 
a rebel  bed  ! " 

“ Ecco !"  said  the  guide,  and  pushing  Danglars  into  the  cell, 
he  closed  the  door  upon  him. 

A bolt  grated ; Danglars  was  a prisoner ; besides,  had  there 
been  no  bolt,  it  would  have  been  impossible  for  him  to  pass 
through  the  midst  of  the  garrison  who  held  the  catacombs  of  St. 
Sebastian,  encamped  round  a master  whom  our  readers  must 
have  recognized  as  the  famous  Luigi  Vampa.  Danglars,  too, 
had  recognized  the  bandit,  whose  ^vistence  he  would  not  believe 
when  Albert  de  Morcerf  mentioned  him  in  Paris  ; and  not  only 
did  he  recognize  him,  but  also  the  cell  in  which  Albert  had  been 
confined,  and  which  was  probably  kept  for  the  accommodation  of 
strangers.  These  recollections  were  dwelt  upon  with  some  pleas- 
ure by  Danglars,  and  restored  him  to  some  degree  of  tranquillity. 
Since  the  bandits  had  not  despatched  him  at  once,  he  felt  that 
they  would  not  kill  him  at  all.  They  had  arrested  him  for  the 
purpose  of  robbery,  and  as  he  had  only  a few  louis  about  him,  he 
doubted  not  he  would  be  ransomed.  He  remembered  that  Mor- 
cerf had  been  taxed  at  4,000  crowns;  and  as  he  considered  him- 
self of  much  greater  importance  than  Morcerf,  he  fixed  his  own 
price  at  8,000  crowns  : 8,000  crowns  amounted  to  48,000  francs  : 
he  would  then  have  about  5,050,000  francs.  With  this  sum  he 
could  manage  to  keep  out  of  difficulties.  Therefore,  tolerably  se- 
cure in  being  able  to  extricate  himself  from  his  position,  provided 
he  were  not  rated  at  the  unreasonable  sum  of  5,050,000  francs,  he 
stretched  himself  on  his  bed,  and,  after  turning  round  two  or 
three  times,  fell  asleep  with  the  tranquillity  of  the  hero  whose  life 
Luigi  Vampa  was  studying* 


CHAPTER  LXVIII. 

LUIGI  VAMPA*  S BILL  OF  FARE. 

We  awake  from  every  sleep  except  the  one  dreaded  by  Dang« 
Jars.  He  awoke.  In  such  a situation  a single  moment  suffices  to 
change  the  strongest  doubt  into  certainty.  “ Yes,  yes,*9  he  mur- 
mured, “ I am  in  the  hands  of  the  brigands  of  whom  Albert  de 
Morcerf  spoke."  His  first  idea  was  to  breathe,  that  he  might  know 
whether  he  was  wounded.  He  borrowed  this  from  " Don 
Quixote,"  the  only  book  he  had  ever  read,  but  which  he  still 
slightly  remembered. 

••  No."  he  cried.  M they  have  not  wounded,  but  perhaps  they 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRTS  TO.  467 

have  robbed  me!”  and  he  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets.  They 
were  untouched  ; the  hundred  louis  he  had  reserved  for  his  journey 
from  Rome  to  Venice  were  in  his  trousers  pocket,  and  in  that  of 
his  great-coat  he  found  the  little  note-case  containing  his  letter  of 
credit  for  5,050,000  francs.  “ Singular  bandits  ! ” he  exclaimed  ; 
“ they  have  left  me  my  purse  and  pocket-book.  As  I was  say- 
ing last  night,  they  intend  me  to  be  ransomed.  Hollo  ! here  is 
my  watch!  Let  me  see  what  time  it  is.”  Danglars’ repeater, 
which  he  had  carefully  wound  up  on  the  previous  night,  struck 
half-past  five.  Without  this,  Danglars-  would  have  been  quite 
ignorant  of  the  time,  for  daylight  did  not  reach  his  cell.  Should 
he  demand  an  explantion  from  the  bandits,  or  should  he  wait 
patiently  for  them  to  propose  it.  The  last  alternative  seemed  the 
most  prudent,  so  he  waited  until  twelve  o’clock.  During  all  this 
time  a sentinel,  relieved  at  eight  o’clock,  had  been  watching  his 
door.  Danglars  suddenly  felt  a strong  inclination  to  see  the  per- 
son who  kept  watch  over  him.  He  had  remarked  that  a few 
rays,  not  of  daylight  but  from  a lamp,  penetrated  through  the 
ill-joined  planks  of  the  door ; he  approached  it  just  as  the  brig- 
and was  refreshing  himself  with  a mouthful  of  brandy,  which, 
owing  to  the  leathern  bottle  containing  it,  sent  forth  an  odor 
which  was  extremely  unpleasant  to  Danglars.  “ Faugh!  ” he 
exclaimed,  retreating  to  the  extreme  corner  of  his  cell. 

At  twelve,  this  man  was  replaced  by  another,  and  Danglars, 
wishing  to  catch  sight  of  his  new  guardian,  approached  the  door' 
again.  He  was  an  athletic,  gigantic  bandit,  with  large  eyes,  thick 
lips,  and  a flat  noise ; his  red  hair  fell  in  disheveled  masses  like 
snakes  around  his  shoulders.  " Ah ! ah  ! ” cried  Danglars,  “ this 
fellow  is  more  like  an  ogre  than  anything  else  ; however,  I am  rather 
too  old  and  tough  tp  be  very  good  eating  ! *’  We  see  that 
Danglars  was  quite  collected  enough  to  jest ; at  the  same  time,  as 
though  to  disprove  the  ogreish  propensities,  the  man  took  some 
black  bread,  cheese,  and  onions  from  his  wallet,  which  he  began 
devouring  voraciously.  “ May  I be  hanged,”  said  Danglars, 
glancing  at  the  bandit’s  dinner  through  the  crevices  of  the  door, 
— “may  I be  hanged  if  I can  understand  how  people  can  eat 
such  filth!  ” and  he  withdrew  to  seat  himself  upon  his  goat- 
skin, which  recalled  to  him  the  smell  of  the  brandy. 

But  the  secrets  of  nature  are  incomprehensible,  and  there  are 
certain  invitations  contained  in  even  the  coarsest  food  which  ap- 
peal very  irresistibly  to  a fasting  stomach.  Danglars  felt  his 
own  not  to  be  very  well  supplied  just  then  ; and  gradually  the 
man  appeared  less  ugly,  the  bread  less  black,  and  the  cheese 
more  fresh,  while  those  dreadful  vulgar  onions  recalled  to  his  mind 
sauces  and  side-dishes,  which  his  cook  prepared  in  a very  superior 
manner  whenever  he  said,  “ M.  Deniseau,  let  me  have  a nice  lit- 
tle fricassee  to-day.”  He  rose  and  knocked  at  the  door;  the 
bandit  raised  his  head,  Danglars  knew  that  he  was  heard,  so 


468 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


he  redoubled  his  blows.  “Checosa?"  asked  the  bandite 
11  Come,  come,”  said  Danglars,  tapping  his  fingers  against  the  door, 

“ I think  it  is  quite  time  to  think  of  giving  me  something  to  eat!” 
But  whether  he  did  not  understand  him,  or  whether  he  had  re- 
ceived no  orders  respecting  the  nourishment  of  Danglars,  the  giant, 
without  answering,  recommenced  his  dinner.  Danglars  felt  his 
pride  hurt,  and  not  wishing  to  commit  himself  with  the  brute* 
threw  himself  down  again  on  his  goatskin,  and  did  not  breathe 
another  word. 

Four  hours  passed  by,  the  giant  was  replaced  by  another  bandit 
Danglars,  who  began  to  experience  gnawings  at  the  stomach,  rose 
softly,  again  applied  his  eye  to  the  crack  of  the  door,  and  rec- 
ognized the  intelligent  countenance  of  his  guide.  It  was,  in- 
deed, Peppino  who  was  preparing  to  mount  guard  as  comfortably 
as  possible  by  seating  himself  opposite  to  the  door,  and  placing 
between  his  legs  and  an  earthen  pan,  containing  chick-pease 
stewed  with  bacon.  Near  the  pan  he  also  placed  a pretty  little 
basket  of  grapes  and  a bottle  of  Orvieto.  Peppino  was  decidedly 
an  epicure.  While  witnessing  these  preparations  Danglars* 
mouth  watered.  “ Come,”  he  said  to  himself,  “let  me  me  try  if 
he  will  be  more  tractable  than  the  other!  ” and  he  tapped  gently 
at  the  door.  “Coming!”  exclaimed  Peppino,  who,  from  fre- 
quenting the  house  of  Pastrini,  understood  F rench  perfectly. 

Danglars  immediately  recognized  him  as  the  man  who  had 
called  out  in  such  a furious  manner,  “ Put  in  your  head  ! ” But 
this  was  not  the  time  for  recrimination,  so  he  assumed  his  most 
agreeable  manner  and  said  with  a gracious  smile, — “Excuse 
me,  sir,  but  are  they  not  going  to  give  me  any  dinner?  ” 

“ Does  your  excellency  happen  to  be  hungry?” 

“ Happen  to  be  hungry  ! that’s  excellent,  when  I have  not 
eaten  for  twenty-four  hours!”  muttered  Danglars.  Then  he 

added  aloud,  “ Yes,  sir,  I am  hungry — very  hungry  ! ” -“What 

would  your  excellency  like?  ” and  Peppino  placed  his  pan  on  the 
ground,  so  that  the  steam  rose  directly  under  the  nostrils  of  Dan* 
glars. — “ Give  your  orders!  ” 

“ Have  you  kitchens  here?” 

“ Kitchens?— of  course!  complete  ones,” 

“ And  cooks  ? ” 

“ Excellent ! ” 

“ Well ! a fowl,  fish,  game,  it  signifies  little,  so  that  I eat.” 

“As  your  excellency  pleases!  You  mentioned  a fowl,  I* 
think  ? ’ * 

“Yes,  a fowl.”  Peppino,  turning  round,  shouted,  “A  fowl  for 
his  excellency  ! ” His  voice  yet  echoed  in  the  archway  when  a 
young  man,  handsome,  graceful,  and  half-naked,  appeared,  bear- 
ing a fowl  in  a silver  dish  on  his  head,  without  the  assistance  of 
his  hands.  “ I could  almost  believe  myself  at  a Paris  restaurant ! ” 
murmured  Danglars, 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO 


4*9 

•«  Here,  yom  excellency  ! ” said  Peppino,  taking  the  fowl  from 
the  young  bandit  and  placing  it  on  the  worm-eaten  table,  which, 
with  a stool  and  the  goatskin  bed,  formed  the  entire  furniture  of 
the  cell.  Danglars  asked  for  a km\ and  fork.  “ Here,  excel- 
lency,said  Peppino,  offering  him  a little  blunt  knife  and  a box* 
wood  fork.  Danglars  took  the  knife  in  one  hand  and  the  fork  in 
the  other,  and  was  about  to  cut  up  the  fowl.  “ Pardon  me,  excel- 
xency,”  said  Peppino,  placing  his  hand  on  the  banker’s  shoulder  f 
“ people  pay  here  before  they  eat.  They  might  not  be  satisfied, 

and ” ^ 

“Ah!  ah!”  thought  Danglars,  “this  is  no  longer  like  Paris, 
without  reckoning  that  I shall  probably  be  fleeced  ! Never  mind, 
I will  carry  it  off  well ! I have  always  heard  how  cheap  poultry 
is  in  Italy  ; I should  think  a fowl  is  worth  about  twelve  sous  at 

Rome. There,”  he  said,  throwing  a louis  down.  Peppino 

picked  up  the  louis,  and  Danglars  again  prepared  to  carve  the 
fowl.  “ Stay  a moment,  your  excellency,”  said  Peppino,  rising; 

“ you  still  owe  me  something.” “ I said  they  would  fleece  me,  ' 

thought  Danglars  ; but  resolving  to  resist  the  extortion,  he  said, 
u Come,  how  much  do  I owe  you  for  this  fowl  ? ” 

“ Your  excellency  has  given  me  a louis  on  account.” 

“A  louis  on  account  for  a fowl!  ” “ Certainly  ; and  your 

excellency  now  owes  me  4,990  louis!”  Danglars  opened  his 
enormous  eyes  on  hearing  this  gigantic  joke.  “ Come,  come,  this 
is  very  droll — very  amusing — I allow  ; out,  as  I am  very  hunrgry. 

pray  allow  me  to  eat.  Stay,  here  is  another  louis  for  you.” 

“Then,  that  will  make  only  4,998  louis,”  said  Peppino,  with  the 
same  indifference.  “ I shall  get  them  all  in  time.” 

“ Oh  ! as  for  that,”  said  Danglafs,  angry  in  his  perseverance  in 
the  jest, — “ as  for  that  you  will  never  succeed.  Go  to  the  devil! 
You  do  not  know  with  whom  you  have  to  deal!”  Peppino 
made  a sign,  and  the  youth  hastily  removed  the  fowl.  Danglars 
threw  himself  upon  his  goatskin,  and  Peppino,  re-closing  the  door, 
again  began  eating  his  peas  and  bacon.  Though  Danglars  could 
not  see  Peppino,  the  noise  of  his  teeth  allowed  no  doubt  as  to  his 
occupation.  He  was  certainly  eating,  and  noisily  too,  like  an  ill- 
bred  man.  “Brute!”  said  Danglars.  Peppino  pretended  not  to 
hear  him,  and,  without  even  turning  his  head,  continued  to  eat 
slowly.  Danglars’  stomach  felt  so  empty,  it  seemed  as  though  it 
would  be  impossible  ever  to  fill  it  again  ; still  he  had  patience  for 
another  half-hour,  which  appeared  to  him  like  a century.  He 
again  rose  and  went  to  the  door.  “ Come,  sir,  do  not  keep  me 
starving  here  any  long<  but  tell  me  what  they  want.” — — ' * Nay, 
your  excellency,  it  is  you  should  tell  us  what  you  want.  Give 
your  orders,  and  we  will  execute  them.” 

“Then  open  the  door  directly.”  Peppino  obeyed.  “I  want 
something  to  eat ! To  eat — do  you  hear?  ” 

“ Are  you  hungry  ? ” 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 


4?o 

“Come,  you  understand  me.” 

•*  What  would  your  excellency  like  to  eat  ? ” 

“ A piece  of  dry  bread,  since  the  fowls  are  beyond  all  price  ifc 

this  accursed  place.” “Bread!  very  well.  Holloa,  there! 

some  bread!  ” he  exclaimed.  The  youth  brought  a small  loaf. 
“ How  much  ? ” asked  Danglars. 

“Four  thousand  nine  hundred  and  ninety-eight  louis,”  said 
Peppino  ; “ you  have  paid  two  louis  in  advance.” 

“ What ! 100,000  francs  for  a loaf?  ’ ' 

“ One  hundred  thousand  francs ! ” repeated  Peppino. 

“ But  you  only  asked  100,000  francs  for  a fowl ! ” 

“ We  have  a fixed  price  for  all  our  meats.  It  signifies  nothing 
whether  you  eat  much  or  little — whether  you  have  ten  dishes  or 
one — it  is  always  the  same  price.” 

“ What!  still  keeping  up  this  silly  jest?  My  dear  fellow,  it  is 
perfectly  ridiculous — stupid  ! You  had  better  tell  me  at  once  that 
you  intend  starving  me  to  death.” 

“Oh  dear,  no,  your  excellency,  unless  you  intend  to  commit 
suicide.  Pay  and  eat.” 

“ And  what  am  I to  pay  with,  brute?”  said  Danglars,  enraged. 
“ Do  you  suppose  I carry  100,000  francs  in  my  pocket?  ” 

“Your  excellency  has  5,050,000  francs  in  your  pocket  ; that 
will  be  fifty  fowls  at  100,000  francs  a-piece,  and  half  a fowl  for 
the  50,000.” 

Danglars  shuddered.  The  bandage  fell  from  his  eyes,  and  he 
Understood  the  joke,  which  he  did  not  think  quite  so  dull  as  lie 
had  done  just  before.  “ Come,”  he  said,  “if  I pay  the  100,000 
francs,  wiR  you  be  satisfied,  and  allow  me  to  eat  my  ease  ? ” 
“Certainly,”  said  Peppino, 

“ But  how  can  I pay  them  ? ” 

“ Oh,  nothing  easier  : you  have  an  account  opened  with  Messrs. 
Thomson  and  French,  Viadei  Banchi,  Rome  ; give  me  a bill  for 
4,998  louis  on  these  gentlemen,  and  our  banker  shall  take  it.” 
Danglars  thought  it  as  well  to  comply  with  a good  grace  ; so  he 
took  the  pen,  ink,  and  paper  Peppino  offered  him,  wrote  the  bill, 
and  signed  it.  “ Here,”  he  said,  “ here  is  a bill  at  sight.” 

“And  here  is  your  fowl.”  Danglars  sighed  while  he  carved 
the  fowl;  it  appeared  very  thin  for  the  price  it  had  cost.  As  for 
Peppino,  he  read  the  paper  attentively,  put  it  into  his  pocket,  and 
continued  munching  his  peas. 

The  next  day  Danglars  was  again  hungry  ; certainly  the  air  of 
that  dungeon  was  very  appetizing.  The  prisoner  expected  that  he 
would  be  at  no  expense  that  day,  for,  like  an  economical  man,  he 
had  concealed  half  of  his  fowl  and  a piece  of  the  bread  in  the 
corner  of  his  cell.  But  he  had  no  sooner  eaten  than  he  felt  thirsty  ; 
he  had  forgotten  that.  He  struggled  against  his  thirst  till  his 
tongue  clave  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth  ; then,  no  longer  able  to 
resist,  he  called  out.  The  sentinel  opened  the  door ; it  was  a nfcw 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


47i 


face.  He  thought  it  would  be  better  to  transact  business  with  his 
old  acquaintance,  so  he  sent  for  Peppino.  44  Here  I am,  your 
excellency,"  said  Peppino,  with  an  eagerness  which  Danglars 
thought  favorable  to  him.  44  What  do  you  want?  " 

44  Something  to  drink." 

“Your  excellency  knows  that  wine  is  beyond  all  price  outside 
Rome." 

‘‘Then  give  me  water,"  cried  Danglars,  endeavoring  to  parry 
the  blow. 

44  Oh,  water  is  even  more  scarce  than  wine,  your  excellency, 
there  has  been  a drought." 

44  Come,"  thought  Danglars,  44  we  are  going  to  repeat  the  old 
story."  And,  while  he  smiled  as  he  attempted  to  regard  the  affair 
as  a joke,  he  felt  his  temples  moist  with  perspiration. 

“Come,  my  friend,"  said  Danglars,  seeing  he  made  no  im* 
pression  on  Peppino,  “ you  will  not  refuse  me  a glass  of  wine  ? " 

“ I have  already  told  you  that  we  do  not  sell  retail." 

“ Well,  then,  let,  me  have  a bottle  of  the  least  expensive." 

“ They  are  all  the  same  price.” 

44  And  what  is  that  ? ” 

“Twenty-five  thousand  francs  per  bottle." 

44  Tell  me,"  cried  Danglars,  in  a voice  of  extreme  bitterness—. 
*4  tell  me  that  you  wish  to  despoil  me  of  all ; it  will  be  sooner  over 
than  devouring  me  piecemeal." 

44  It  is  possible  such  may  be  the  master’s  intention." 

44  The  master ! — who  is  he  ? " 


“The  person  to  whom  you  were  conducted  yesterday." 

“Let  me  see  him." “Certainly."  And  the  next  monutnt 

Luigi  Vampa  appeared  before  Danglars. 

“ You  sent  for  me  ? " he  said  to  the  prisoner. 

44  Are  you,  sir,  the  chief  of  the  people  who  brought  me  her*  ? " 
44  Yes,  your  excellency.  What  then  ? " 

44  How  much  do  you  require  for  my  ransom  ? ” 44  Merel  y the 

5,000,000  you  have  about  you."  Danglars  felt  a dreadful  spasm 
dart  through  his  heart.  44  But  this  it  all  I have  left  in  the  wo'  Id," 
said  he,  44  out  of  an  immense  fortune.  If  you  deprive  me  of  that, 
take  away  my  life  also." 

44  We  are  forbidden  to  snea  your  blood." 

44  And  by  whom  are  you  forbidden  ? " 

44  By  him  we  obey.” 

44  You  do,  then,  obey  some  one  ?" 

44  Yes,  a chief." 


44 1 thought  you  said  you  were  the  chief?" 

44  So  I am  of  these  men  ; but  there  is  another  over  me." 
44  And  did  your  superior  tell  you  to  treat  me  thus  ?" 
“Yes." 


44  But  my  purse  will  be  exhausted.” 
••  Probably,"  % 


m 


THE  COUNT  OF  M0N1E  CR1NTQ. 


••Comb/''  said  Danglars,  " wiil  you  take  a million?  M 

“ No.” 

“Two  millions? — three? — four?  Come,  four?  I will  givt 
them  to  you  on  condition  that  you  let  me  go.** 

14  Why  do  you  offer  me  4,000,000  for  what  is  worth  5,000,000? 
This  is  a kind  of  usury,  banker,  I do  not  understand.” 

“ Take  all,  then — take  all,  1 tell  you,  and  kill  me!” 

“ Come,  come,  calm  yourself.  You  will  heat  your  blood,  and 
that  would  produce  an  appetite  it  would  require  a million  a day  to 
satisfy.  Be  more  economical.” 

“ But  when  I have  no  more  money  left  to  pay  you  ? **  asked  the 
infuriated  Danglars. 

“ Then  you  must  suffer  hunger.” 

“ Suffer  hunger?”  said  Danglars,  becoming  pale. 

M Most  likely.”  replied  Vampa,  coolly. 

11  But  you  say  you  do  not  wish  to  kill  me  ? * 

“No.” 

“ And  yet  you  will  let  me  perish  with  hunger? 

“ Ah,  that  is  a different  thing.” 

" Well,  then,  wretches  ! ” cried  Danglars,  “ I will  defy  your  in*, 
famous  calculations ! — I would  rather  die  at  once  ! You  may  tor- 
ture, torment,  kill  me,  but  you  shall  not  have  my  signature 
again  ! * * 

“As  your  excellency  pleases,”  said  Vampa,  as  he  left  the  cell. 
Danglars,  raving,  threw  himself  on  the  goatskin. 

His  resolution  not  to  sign  lasted  two  days,  after  which  he  offered 
a million  for  some  food.  They  sent  him  a magnificent  supper,  and 
took  his  million. 

From  this  time  the  prisoner  resolved  to  suffer  no  longer,  but  to 
yield.  At  the  end  of  twelve  days,  after  having  made  a splendid 
dinner,  he  reckoned  his  accounts,  and  found  he  had  only  50,000 
francs  ’eft.  Then  a strange  reaction  took  place  : he  who  had  just 
abandoned  5,000,000  endeavored  to  save  the  50,0*0  francs  he  had 
left  ; and,  sooner  than  give  them  up,  he  resolved  to  enter  again 
upon  his  life  of  privation — he  yielded  to  rays  of  hope  resembling 
madness.  He,  who  for  so  long  a time  had  forgotten  God,  began 
to  think  that  miracles  were  possible : that  the  accursed  cave  might 
be  discovered  by  the  officers  of  the  Papal  States,  who  would  re- 
lease him  ; that  then  he  would  have  50,000  remaining,  which 
would  be  sufficient  to  save  him  from  starvation  ; and,  finally,  he 
prayed  that  this  sum  might  be  preserved  to  him,  and  as  he  prayed 
he  wept.  Three  days  passed  thus,  during  which  his  prayers  were 
frequent,  if  not  heartfelt.  Sometimes  he  was  delirious,  and  fancied 
he  saw  old  Dantes  stretched  on  a pallet ; he,  also  was  dying  o* 
hunger. 

On  the  fourth,  he  was  no  longer  a man,  but  a living  corpse. 
He  had  picked  up  every  crumb  that  had  been  left  from  his  forme? 
meals,  and  was  beginning  to  eat  the  matting  which  covered  tk? 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


473 


hoor  of  his  cell.  Then  he  entreated  Peppino,  as  he  would  a 
guardian  angel,  to  give  him  food  ; he  offered  him  1,000  francs  for 
a mouthful  of  bread.  But  Peppino  did  not  answer.  On  the  fifth 
day  he  dragged  himself  to  the  door  of  the  cell. 

“ Are  you  not  a Christian  ? ” he  said,  falling  on  his  knees.  “ Do 
you  wish  to  assassinate  a man  who,  In  the  eyes  of  Heaven,  is  a 
brother?  Oh,  my  former  friends,  my  former  friends  ! ” he  mur- 
mured, and  fell  with  his  face  to  the  ground.  Then  rising  with  a 
species  of  despair,  he  exclaimed.  “ The  chief ! the  chief!  ” 

“ Here  I am/'  said  Vampa,  instantly  appearing  ; 11  what  do 
you  want?” 

“Take  my  last  gold,”  muttered  Danglars,  holding  out  his 
pocket-book,  “ and  let  me  live  here  ; I ask  no  more  for  liberty — I 
-only  ask  to  live  ! ’ ’ 

“ Then  you  suffer  a great  deal  ? ” “ Oh,  yes,  yes,  cruelly  ! " 

“ Still,  there  have  been  men  who  suffered  more  than  you.” 

“ I do  not  think  so.” 

“ Yes  ; those  who  have  died  of  hunger.” 

Danglars  thought  of  the  old  man  whom,  in  his  hours  of  delirium, 
he  had  seen  groaning  on  his  bed.  He  struck  his  forehead  on  the 
ground  and  groaned.  “Yes,”  he  said,  “there  have  been  some 
who  have  suffered  more  than  I have,  but  then  they  must  have  been 
martyrs  at  least,” 

“ Do  you  repent?  " asked  a deep,  solemn  voice,  which  caused 
Danglars’  hair  to  stand  on  end.  His  feeble  eyes  endeavored  to 
distinguish  objects,  and  behind  the  bandit  he  saw  a man  in  a 
cloak,  half  lost  in  the  shadow  of  a stone  column. 

“ Of  what  must  I repent?  ” stammered  Danglars. 

“ Of  the  evil  you  have  done,”  said  the  voice. 

“Oh,  yes!  oh,  yes!  I do  indeed  repent.”  And  he  struck  his 
breast  with  his  emaciated  fist. 

“ Then  I forgive  you,”  said  the  man,  dropping  his  cloak,  and 
advancing  to  the  light. 

“ The  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  ! ” said  Danglars,  more  pale  from 
terror  than  he  had  been  just  before  from  hunger  and  misery. 

“You  are  mistaken — I am  not  the  Count  of  Monte-Cristo  ! ” 

“ Then  who  are  you  ? ” 

“ I am  he  whom  .you  sold  and  dishonored — I am  he  whose  be- 
trothed you  prostituted — he  upon  whom  you  trampled  that  you  might 
raise  yourself  to  fortune — he  whose  father  you  condemned  to  die  of 
hunger — he  whom  you  also  condemned  to  starvation,  and  who  yet 
forgives  you,  because  he  hopes  to  be  forgiven — I am  Edmond 
Dantes  ! ” Danglars  uttered  a scream,  and  fell  prostrate.  “ Rise,” 
said  the  count,  “ your  life  is  safe-;  the  same  good  fortune  has  not 
happened  to  your  accomplices — one  is  mad,  the  other  dead.  Keep 
the  50,000  francs  you  have  left — I give  them  to  you.  The  5,000,- 
000  you  robbed  from  the  hospitals  has  been  restored  to  them  by  an 
unknown  hand.  And  now  eat  and  drink  ; I will  entertain  vou  to* 


474 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 


night.  Vampa,  when  this  man  is  satisfied,  let  him  be  free/" 
Danglars  remained  prostrate  while  the  count  withdrew  ; when  he 
raised  his  head  he  saw  nothing  more  than  a kind  of  shadow  dis- 
appearing in  the  passage,  before  which  the  bandits  bowed.  Ac- 
cording to  the  count’s  directions,  Danglars  was  waited  on  by 
Vampa,  who  brought  him  the  best  wine  and  fruits  ; then,  having 
conducted  him  to  the  road,  and  pointed  to  his  post-chaise,  he  left 
him  leaning  against  a tree.  He  remained  there  all  night,  not 
knowing  where  he  was.  When  daylight  dawned,  he  saw  that  he 
was  near  a stream  ; he  was  thirsty,  and  dragged  himself  toward 
it.  As  he  stooped  down  to  drink,  he  perceived  that  his  hair  had 
become  quite  white. 


CHAPTER  LXIX. 

THE  FIFTH  OF  OCTOBER. 

It  was  about  six  o’clock  in  the  evening  ; an  opal-colored  light, 
through  which  an  autumnal  sun  shed  its  golden  rays,  descended 
on  the  blue  sea. 

A light  yacht,  chaste  and  elegant  in  its  form,  was  gliding  amidst 
the  first  dews  of  night  over  the  immense  lake.  Standing  on  the 
prow  was  a tall  man,  of  a dark  complexion,  who  saw  with  dilating 
eyes  that  they  were  approaching  a dark  mass  of  land  in  the  shape 
of  a cone,  rising  from  the  midst  of  the  waves.  •'  Is  that  Monte- 
Cristo  ? ’ ’ asked  the  traveler,  to  whose  orders  the  yacht  was  for  the 
time  submitted,  in  a melancholy  voice. 

“Yes,  your  excellency/’  said  the  captain,  " we  have  reached 
it ! ” 

Ten  minutes  afterwards,  the  sails  were  brailed,  and  they  cast 
anchor  about  one  hundred  paces  from  the  little  harbor.  The 
canoe  was  already  in  the  sea,  loaded  with  four  rowers  and  the 
pilot. 

After  they  landed,  the  young  man  looked  round  for  some  one  to 
show  him  his  road,  for  it  was  quite  dark.  Just  as  he  turned,  a hand 
rested  on  his  shoulder,  and  a voice,  which  made  him  shudder,  ex- 
claimed,— " Good  evening,  Maximilian  ! you  are  punctual,  thank 
you!  ” 

“Ah  ! is  it  you,  count?”  said  the  young  man,  in  an  almost  joy- 
ful accent,  pressing  Monte-Cristo’s  hand  with  both  his  own. 

Morrel  looked  at  the  count  with  surprise.  “ Count,”  he  said, 
41  you  are  not  the  same  here  as  in  Paris.”  The  count’s  brow  be- 
came clouded.  " You  are  right  to  recall  me  to  myself,  Maximi- 
lian,” he  said  ; “ I was  delighted  to  see  you  again,  and  forgot  for 
the  moment  that  all  happiness  is  fleeting.  You  cannot  take  me  for 
a commonplace  man.  a mere  rattle,  emitting:  a vasrue  and  sense* 


mm  fry 

: " illHVf  f,’ K I f V ff f ft  I f I' fl 

THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CR/STO.  475 

fess  noise.  When  I ask  you  if  you  are  consoled,  I speak  to  you  as 
a man  for  whom  the  human  heart  has  no  secrets.  Have  you  still 
that  devouring  thirst,  which  can  only  be  appeased  in  the  grave  ? ” 

“ Yes  : I did  wait ; — yes  ; I did  hope,  count,  but,  count,  I shall 
sleep  calmly,  deliciously  in  the  arms  of  death!”  Morrel  pro- 
nounced these  words  with  an  energy  which  made  the  count  shud- 
der. “My  friend,”  continued  Morrel,  “you  named  the  fifth  ot 
October  as  the  term  of  the  delay  you  asked, — to-day  is  the  fifth  of 
October,”  he  took  out  his  watch  ; “it  is  now  nine  o’clock, — I have 
yet  three  hours  to  live.” 

“ Be  it  so  ? ” said  the  count,  “ come.” 

Morrel  mechanically  followed  the  count,  and  they  had  entered 
the  grotto  before  he  perceived  it.  He  felt  a carpet  under  his  feet, 
a door  opened,  perfumes  surrounded  him,  and  a brilliant  light 
dazzled  his  eyes.  Morrel  hesitated  to  advance,  he  dreaded  the 
enervating  effect  of  all  that  he  saw.  Monte-Cristo  drew  him  in 
gently.  “ Why  should  we  not  spend  the  last  three  hours  remain- 
ing to  us  of  life,  like  those  ancient  Romans,  who,  when  condemned 
by  Nero,  their  emperor  and  heir,  sat  down  at  a table  covered  with 
flowers,  and  gently  glided  into  death,  through-  the  perfume  of 
heliotropes  and  roses?” 

“ Now  I understand,”  he  said,  “ why  you  had  me  brought  here 
to  this  desolate  spot,  in  the  midst  of  the  ocean,  to  this  subterranean 
palace  ; it  was  because  you  loved  me,  was  it  not,  count?  It  was 
because  you  loved  me  well  enough  to  give  me  one  of  those  sweet 
means  of  death  of  which  we  were  speaking  ; a death  without  agony, 
a death  which  allows  me  to  fade  away  while  pronouncing  Valen- 
tine’s name  and  pressing  your  hand.’’ 

“ Yes  ; you  have  guessed  rightly,  Morrel,”  said  the  count,  “ that 
is  what  I intended.” 

“ It  is  well,”  said  Monte-Cristo,  whose  countenance  brightened 
at  these  words,  “you  wish  it;  you  are  inflexible;  yes,  as  you 
said,  you  are  indeed  wretched,  and  a miracle  alone  can  cure  you  ; 
sit  down,  Morrel,  and  wait.” 

Morrel  obeyed ; the  count  rose,  and  unlocking  a closet  with  a 
key  suspended  from  his  gold  chain,  took  from  it  a silver  casket. 
He  placed  the  casket  on  the  table ; then  opening  it,  took  out  a 
little  golden  box,  the  top  of  which  flew  open  when  touched  by  a 
secret  spring.  This  box  contained  an  unctuous  substance  partly 
solid,  of  which  it  was  impossible  to  discover  the  color,  owing  te 
the  reflection  of  the  polished  gold,  sapphires,  rubies,  emeralds, 
which  ornamented  the  box.  It  was  a mixed  mass  of  blue,  red, 
and  gold.  The  count  took  out  a small  quantity  of  this  with  a gilt 
spoon,  and  offered  it  to  Morrel,  fixing  a long  steadfast  glance 
upon  him.  It  was  then  observable  that  the  substance  was 
greenish. 

“ This  is  what  you  asked  for*”  he  said,  “ and  what  I promised 
to  give  you.” 


\j6  THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO. 

“I  thank  you  from  the  depths  of  my  heart,”  said  the  young 
man,  taking  the  spoon  from  the  hands  of  Monte-Cristo.  The 
count  took  another  spoon,  and  again  dipped  it  into  the  golden 
box. 

“ Stay  ! ” said  the  young  man.  44  You  who  love,  and  are  be- 
loved ; you,  who  have  faith  and  hope, — oh  ! do  not  follow  my 
example  ; in  your  case  it  would  be  a crime.  Adieu,  my  noble 
and  generous  friend,  adieu  ; I will  go  and  tell  Valentine  what  you 
have  done  for  me.”  And  slowly,  though  without  any  hesitation, 
only  waiting  to  press  the  count’s  hand  fervently,  he  swallowed  the 
mysterious  substance  offered  by  Monte-Cristo.  Then  they  were 
both  silent.  An  overpowering  sadness  took  possession  of  the 
young  man  ; his  hands  relaxed  their  hold  ; the  objects  in  the 
r6om  gradually  lost  their  form  and  color  ; and  his  disturbed  vision 
seemed  to  perceive  doors  and  curtains  open  in  the  wall. 

41  Friend,”  he  cried,  44 1 feel  that  I am  dying  ; thanks!”  He 
made  a last  effort  to  extend  his  hand,  but  it  fell  powerless  beside 
him.  Then  it  appeared  to  him  that  Monte-Cristo  smiled,  not  with 
the  strange  and  fearful  expression  which  had  sometimes  revealed 
to  him  the  secrets  of  his  heart,  but  with  the  benevolent  kindness 
of  a father  for  a son.  Morrel,  overpowered,  turned  round  in  the 
arm-chair  ; a delicious  torpor  was  insinuated  into  every  vein ; a 
change  of  ideas  presented  themselves  to  his  brain,  like  a new 
design  on  the  kaleidoscope  ; enervated,  postrate,  and  breathless, 
he  became  unconscious  of  outward  objects,  he  seemed  to  be  enter- 
ing that  vague  delirium  preceding  death.  He  wished  once  again 
to  press  the  count’s  hand  ; but  his  own  was  unmovable  : he  wished 
to  articulate  a last  farewell,  but  his  tongue  lay  motionless  and 
heavy  in  his  throat,  like  a stone  at  the  mouth  of  a sepulchre. 

The  count  had  just  opened  a door.  Immediately  a brilliant 
light  from  the  next  room,  or  rather  from  the  palace  adjoining, 
shone  upon  the  room  in  which  he  was  gently  gliding  into  his  last 
sleep.  Then  he  saw  a woman  of  marvellous  beauty  appear  on  the 
threshold  of  the  door  separating  the  two  rooms.  Pale,  and 
sweetly  smiling,  she  looked  like  an  angel  of  mercy  conjuring  the 
angel  of  vengeance.  44  Is  it  heaven  that  opens  before  me?” 
thought  the  dying  man  ; “ that  angel  resembles  the  one  I have 
lost.”  Monte-Cristo  pointed  Morrel  to  the  young  woman,  who 
advanced  toward  him  with  clasped  hands  and  a smile  upon  her 
lips. 

44  Valentine!  Valentine!”  he  mentally  ejaculated;  but  his  lips 
uttered  no  sound  ; and,  as  though  all  his  strength  was  centered  in 
that  eternal  emotion,  he  sighed  and  closed  his  eyes.  Valentine 
rushed  toward  him  ; his  lips  again  moved. 

“ He  is  calling  you,”  said  the  count;  44  he  to  whom  you  have 
confided  your  destiny — he  from  whom  death  would  have  separated 
you,  calls  you  to  him.  Happily,  I vanquished  death.  Hence 
forth,  Valentine,  you  will  never  again  be  separated  on  earth  ; sines 


fe;.  '-'  ' - lllitf.lir 

THE  COUNT  OF  MOAlttt  I^VP^O-i  j ; j | |47Jfi 

ne  has  rushed  into  death  to  find  you.  Without  me,  you  would 
both  have  died.  May  God  accept  my  atonement  of  these  two 
existences ! 1 * 

Valentine  seized  the  count’s  hand,  and,  in  her  irresistible  im- 
pulse of  joy,  carried  it  to  her  lips. 

44  Oh  ! thank  me  again  ! ” said  the  count ; 14  tell  me  till  you  are 
weary,  that  I have  restored  you  to  happiness  ; you  do  not  know 
how  much  I require  this  assurance.’ ’ 

41  Oh!  yes,  yes,  I thank  you  with  all  my  heart,"  said  Valen- 
tine ; 44  and  if  you  doubt  the  sincerity  of  my  gratitude,  oh,  then, 
ask  Haydee  !~ask  my  beloved  sister  Haydee,  who,  ever  since  our 
departure  from  France,  has  caused  me  to  wait  patiently  for  this 
happy  day,  while  talking  to  me  of  you.” 

44  You  then  love  Haydee?  *’  asked  Monte-Cristo,  with  an  emo- 
tion he  in  vain  endeavored  to  dissimulate.  44  Well,  then!  I have 
a favor  to  ask  of  you.” 

44  Of  me  ! Oh,  am  I happy  enough  without  that  pleasure.” 

44  Yes  ; you  have  called  Haydee  your  sister  ; let  her  become  so 
indeed,  Valentine  ; render  her  all  the  gratitude  you  fancy  you  owe 
me;  protect  her,  for”  (the  count’s  voice  was  thick  with  emo- 
tion) 44  henceforth  she  will  be  alone  in  the  world.” 

44  Alone  in  the  world!”  repeated  a voice  behind  the  count, 
44  and  why  ? ” 

Monte-Cristo  turned  round  ; Haydee  was  standing  pale,  motion- 
less, looking  at  the  count  with  an  expression  of  fearful  amazement. 

44  Oh,  heavens!  ” exclaimed  Monte-Cristo,  44  can  my  suspicions 
be  correct?  Haydee  would  it  please  you  not  to  leave  me?  ” 

44 1 am  young,”  gently  replied  Haydee  ; 44  I love  the  life  you 
have  made  so  sweet  to  me,  and  should  regret  to  die.” 

44  You  mean,  then,  that  if  I leave  you,  Haydee " 

44 1 should  die  ; yes,  my  lord/* 

44  Do  you  then  love  me?” 

44  Oh,  Valentine  ! he  asks  if  I love  him.  Valentine,  tell  him  if 
you  love  Maximilian.”  The  count  felt  his  heart  dilate  and  throb  ; 
he  opened  his  arms,  and  Haydee,  uttering  a cry,  sprang  into  them. 
«•  Oh,  yes ! ” she  cried,  44  I do  love  you ! I love  you  as  one  loves 
a father,  brother,  husband  ? I love  you  as  my  life,  for  you  are  the 
best,  the  noblest  of  created  beings ! ” 

44  Let  it  be,  then,  as  you  wish,  sweet  angel  ; God  has  sustained 
me  in  my  struggle  with  my  enemies,  and  has  given  me  this  vic- 
tory ; He  will  not  let  me  end  my  triumph  with  this  penance  ; I 
wished  to  punish  myself,  but  He  has  pardoned  me ! Love  me 
then,  Haydee ! Who  knows  ? perhaps  your  love  will  make  me 
forget  all  I wish  not  to  remember.” 

44  What  do  you  mean,  my  lord?” 44 1 mean  that  one  word 

from  you  has  enlightened  me  more  than  twenty  years  of  slow  ex- 
Errience  ; I have  but  you  in  the  world,  Haydee.  Come,  Haydee. 


THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  CRISTO . 

come  !/*  and  throwing  his  arm  around  the  girl’s  waist,  he  pressed 
the  hand  oif  Valentine,  and  disappeared. 

An  hour  had  nearly  passed,  during  which  Valentine,  breathless 
and  motionless,  watched  steadfastly  over  Morrel.  At  length  she 
felt  his  heart  beat,  a faint  breath  played  upon  his  lips,  a slight 
shudder,  announcing  the  return  of  life,  passed  through  the  young 
man’s  frame.  At  length,  his  eyes  opened,  but  they  were  at  first 
fixed  and  expressionless;  then  sight  returned,  and,  with  it,  feel- 
ing and  grief.  “Oh!”  he  cried,  in  an  accent  of  despair,  “the 
count  has  deceived  me;  I am  yet  living;”  and  extending  his 
hand  toward  the  table,  he  seized  a knife. 

“Dearest!”  exclaimed  Valentine,  with  her  adorable  smile, 
“ awake,  and  look  on  me  ! ” Morrel  uttered  a loud  exclamation, 
and  frantic,  doubtful,  dazzled  as  though  by  a celestial  vision,  he 
fell  upon  his  knees. 

****** 

The  next  morning,  at  daybreak,  Valentine  and  Morrel  were 
walking  arm-in-arm  on  the  sea-shore,  Valentine  relating  how 
Monte-Cristo  bad  appeared  in  her  room  ; how  he  had  told  her  of 
everything  ; how  he  had  revealed  the  crime ; and,  finally,  how  he 
had  saved  her  life  by  allowing  her  to  seem  dead.  They  had  found 
the  door  of  the  grotto  opened,  and  went  forth,  the  few  remaining 
stars  yet  pressing  through  the  morning  light.  Morrel  soon  per- 
ceived a man  standing  amidst  the  group  of  rocks,  who  was  await- 
ing a sign  from  them  to  advance  ; he  pointed  him  out  to  Valen- 
tine. “ Ah ! it-  is  Jacopo,”  she  said,  “ the  captain  of  the  yacht w ” 
and  she  beckoned  him  toward  them. 

“ Do  you  wish  to  speak  to  us?  ’’  asked  Morrel. 

“ I have  a letter  to  give  you  from  the  count.” 

••  From  the  count ! ” murmured  the  two  young  people. 

Yes  ; read  it.”  Morrel  opened  the  letter  and  read 

“My  dear  Maximilian, 

“ There  is  a felucca  for  you  at  anchor.  Jacopo  will  com 
duct  you  to  Leghorn,  where  M.  Noirtier  waits  his  grand-daughter, 
whom  he  wishes  to  bless  before  you  lead  her  to  the  altar.  All 
that  is  in  this  cave,  my  friend,  my  house  in  the  Champs  Ely  sees, 
and  my  Chateau  at  Treport,  are  the  marriage  gifts  bestowed  ty 
Edmond  Dantes  upon  the  son  of  his  old  master,  Morrel.  Mdlte. 
de  Villefort  will  share  them  with  you  ; for  I entreat  her  to  give  to 
the  poor  the  immense  fortune  reverting  to  her  from  her  father,  now 
a madman,  and  her  brother,  who  died  last  September  with  his 
mother.  Tell  the  angel  who  will  watch  over  your  future  destiny, 
Morrel,  to  pray  sometimes  for  a man,  who,  like  Satan,  thought 
himself,  for  an  instant,  equal  to  God  ; but  who  now  acknowledges, 
with  Christian  humility,  that  God  alone  possesses  supreme  power 
inftnka  wisdom,  Pech&ps  those  prayers  may  soften  the  re- 


1 1 fill/;  cv 

THE  COUNT  OF  MONTE  Cr/\STO.  479 

morse  he  feels  in  his  heart.  As  fo*  y ou,  Morrel,  this  is  the  secret 
of  my  conduct  toward  you.  There  \s  neither  happiness  nor  misery 
in  the  world  ; there  is  only  the  comparison  of  one  state  with 
another,  nothing  more.  He  who  has  felt  the  deepest  grief  is  best 
able  to  experience  supreme  happiness.  We  must  have  felt  what 
it  is  to  die,  Morrel,  that  we  may  appreciate  the  enjoyments  of  life. 

“ Live,  then,  and  be  happy,  beloved  children  of  my  heart ! and 
never  forget,  that  until  the  day  when  God  will  deign  to  reveal  tne 
future  to  man,  all  human  wisdom  is  contained  in  these  two 
words, — ‘ Wait  and  hope' 

" Your  friend, 

M Edmond  Dantes,  Count  of  Monte-Cristo.” 

During  the  perusal  of  this  letter,  which  informed  Valentine,  for 
the  first  time,  of  the  madness  of  her  father  and  the  death  of  her 
brother,  she  became  pale,  a heavy  sigh  escaped  from  her  bosom*, 
and  tears,  not  the  less  painful  because  they  were  silent,  ran  down 
her  cheeks  ; her  happiness  cost  her  very  dear.  Morrel  looked  round 
uneasy.  “ But,”  he  said,  “ the  count’s  generosity  is  too  over- 
whelming ; Valeriitine  will  be  satisfied  with  my  humble  fortune. 
Where  is  the  count,  friend?  Lead  me  to  him.”  Jacopo  pointed 
toward  the  horizon. 

The  eyes  of  both  were  fixed  upon  the  spot  indicated  by  the 
sailor,  and  on  the  blue  line  separating  the  sky  from  the  Mediter- 
ranean Sea,  they  perceived  a large  white  sail.  “Gone!”  said 
Morrel : “ Gone  ! — Adieu,  my  friend  ! — adieu,  my  father  ! ” 

“Gone!  ” murmured  Valentine:  “Adieu,  my  friend! — adieu, 
my  sister ! ’ * 

“Who  can  say  whether  we  shall  ever  see  them  again?”  said 
Morrel,  with  tearful  eyes. 

“ My  friend,”  replied  Valentine,  “has  not  the  count  just  told 
us,  that  all  human  wisdom  was  contained  in  these  two  words**** 
5 Wait  and  hope? ’ M 


JTME  END*! 


(, 


Ysuiieu 

,11  ■;(!  VflollM'liUI 

irt  l i ■i.O 


/ m 


